Moonlight
by adoranymph
Summary: Love. Betrayal. Understanding. Friendship. Sacrifice. These are the words describing the story that unfolds as Teddy retraces the story of his father Remus Lupin.
1. Answers

**Chapter One**

**Answers **

Teddy Remus Lupin sat beneath a beech tree in the backyard garden of his grandmother's house, shaded from the hot, bright sun shining in the pale blue sky. He sat with his back against the tree's trunk, and propped up in front of him with his legs was a book on werewolves. A warm breeze blew through as he turned a page, his brow furrowed in concentration. Vaguely he heard the sound of the back door opening.

"Teddy!" called the voice of his grandmother, Andromeda Tonks.

Ted raised his eyes from his book at the sound of his name but did not look around the tree. "Yeah?" he called back.

"You have a visitor," Andromeda announced.

Now Ted poked his head around the tree. Andromeda stood holding the back door open for Ted's godfather, Harry Potter. He felt a delighted squirm at this unexpected visit. "Wotcher, Harry!" he called, grinning.

"Alright, Ted?" said Harry, also grinning as he strode across the lawn and sat down beside Ted beneath the tree. "What're you reading?"

Ted showed him the cover of his book, keeping his spot inside marked with his thumb. The cover read:_ Anatomy of a Beast: Werewolves and the Lives They Lead_.

Harry frowned. "You sure like reading about werewolves, don't you?"

"Grandmum rather I didn't," said Ted, opening back to his spot. As he continued speaking to Harry he returned his eyes to the text. "She lets me keep the books, but if she sees me reading one she gets all huffy and irritated." He began idly leafing through the pages. "If it bothers her so much, I don't understand why she doesn't just...Vanish them, or something."

"She has her reasons," Harry said quietly. There was a pause, and then Harry cleared his throat and said, "Well, tomorrow's the big seventeen then, eh?"

"Yep," said Ted, not looking up from his book. His smile broadened, because Harry's mention of his birthday tomorrow meant that the next thing out of Harry's mouth was going to be about what he wanted. In his opinion Harry was the best godfather a kid could ask for, because even though they weren't related by blood, and Harry had kids of his own with Ginny, Harry had always treated Ted like a mixture of brother and son. So it was only natural that Ted regarded Harry as a mixture of brother and father.

And, as predicted, Harry's next words were: "Any idea what you might like to get from your old godfather, this year?"

"I've been thinking," said Ted.

"I figured," Harry chuckled.

Ted glanced over at him and saw he was sitting cross-legged, picking at the grass. He looked back at his book and continued leafing through it. "I've been thinking really seriously about it, actually. I mean this birthday's a big deal, 'cause it's the day I come of age."

"Mm-hm," said Harry.

"In fact, I've been thinking about it so seriously, that what I really want is something I think that only you could give me."

"And what might that be?"

"Something you can't put in a box."

"Ah," said Harry, suddenly sounding slightly wary. "Ha, well, er…at least that saves on wrapping paper," he quipped with a rather nervous chuckle. "We ran out last year when I was wrapping up your Firebolt 3000."

Ted dog-eared the corner of the page he'd been reading before Harry had arrived, and closed the book with conviction. He turned around to face Harry, sitting up on his knees. "Harry, all I want this year from you is…just some answers."

Harry raised his eyebrows. Apparently he'd been expecting this, but didn't like hearing it. He sighed and said, "Answers, huh?"

Ted nodded.

"Not answers about…your father?" Harry asked with a note of hopeful anxiety.

This was not a topic that hadn't arisen between them before, and Ted knew that of all things he could ask Harry for his birthday this year, this was the last thing Harry wanted him asking him for.

"Actually, yes," he said. "Answers about my father are exactly what I want."

Harry looked away from him and heaved a defeated sigh, absently tearing up a blade of grass he had pinched in his fingers. Ted watched him patiently, as he gazed ahead at the reflective surface of the nearby garden pond. But even after a couple of minutes, he remained silent, and Ted's patience wore thin. "Harry, you _knew_ him!" he exclaimed.

"Not well enough to satisfy your curiosity," said Harry.

"He was best friends with _your_ dad," Ted argued, "and _your_ godfather."

"My father died when I was only a year old," said Harry, and Ted could discern the frustration rising in his tone. "I don't remember him at all at that age, so I've never been able to talk to him about any of his old schoolmates. And as for Sirius, believe it or not, whenever I talked to him about them, I was a bit keener on asking about my _own_ father. You know? I mean your dad was a really good friend of mine—I was crushed when he and your mum died—but...like with Sirius, when I talked with him, it was usually about _my_ father, not—"

"I know you know _some_ things though," Ted asserted, trying to keep his own temper in check. "You must know at least a little bit about his childhood and stuff. My mum I know plenty about from Grandmum, like her childhood, and her days at Hogwarts. But…well, she won't even talk to me about how she _met_ my dad—" His anger burst unexpectedly like a bubble, and he tossed his book aside. "She won't _talk_ about my dad at _all_!" he shouted, rising to his feet and beginning to pace back and forth before Harry. "You're the only one who does, and all you've ever told me is that he was a good friend of yours, that ever since he first started Hogwarts he was best friends with your dad, and Sirius, and that he and my mum died fighting Voldemort's Death Eaters!" He was trembling all over now, and he kept pacing to let off some more steam.

During this whole monologue, Harry had been watching and listening to him intently. When he said nothing, Ted stopped pacing and looked over at him. He saw the anger gone from his face, replaced by an expression soft with compassion, even a degree of empathy. Harry understood him. As a small boy, when Ted first began learning about his parents, Harry had told him that he too had lost his own when he was just an infant, too young to remember them at all; and that for ten years he'd lived with his mother's Muggle sister and her husband and son, and that out of their perception that anything to do with the wizarding world was total rubbish they had never talked about his parents at all, had never even told him the truth about how his parents' deaths were brought about. The Hogwarts gamekeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, had been the one to reveal the truth to him, and he'd been none too happy with his aunt and uncle for having lied to him for an entire decade of his life. Bearing this in mind, a pang of guilt settled into Ted's chest like a dull blow.

"Sorry, Harry," he mumbled, sitting down beside him again beneath the tree. He hugged his knees to his chest as he let himself finish calming down.

"Don't be," said Harry, putting his arm around Ted's shoulders. "You've every right to feel this way."

"I shouldn't take it out on you, though."

"I don't mind," said Harry. Ted looked over and saw that he was grinning. "Don't hold it in, you know? Let it all out."

The corner of Ted's mouth twitched tentatively into a half-smile.

"Now, about your dad," said Harry, gazing back out at the distant hills and mountains, "I do know a teensy bit about his childhood. I talked to him once about it at a Christmas party at the Burrow."

"Well, what did you talk about?" Ted asked hopefully.

Harry hesitated. "I can't tell you."

"Why _not_?"

"Ted, what we talked about in that particular conversation is something your grandmother absolutely forbids me to talk to you about!"

"What?"

"In fact, even if it were something else, she still wouldn't want me telling you a thing."

"Then why not just forget her stupid rule and tell me anyway?"

"But I promised her that I wouldn't," said Harry earnestly. "I'll admit I didn't agree with her when she asked me to promise her, if that's any consolation, and I still don't agree with it. However, she was extremely adamant—I mean it was right after your parents had died, and after losing your grandfather just a few months before, the shock of losing her daughter left her completely devastated. She was in tears by the time I finally agreed to make the promise. It was awful."

"Well, why does she want to hide things from me?" Ted asked, his anger inside him returning at a simmer.

"The same reason my aunt and uncle hid things from me: because of the nature of the truth itself," Harry said sagely.

Ted sighed and buried his face in his knees. Then he pulled away from Harry's arm, grabbed his book from where it lay quiet on the ground, and rose to his feet. He brushed the grass off his legs and backside. "Well…thanks anyway," he mumbled. He looked over at Harry, who still sat on the ground, watching him with his bright green eyes set behind his dark round glasses. Ted's own eyes briefly glanced at the scar shaped like a lightning-bolt etched on his godfather's forehead, slightly concealed by the bangs of his ruffled, jet-black hair, before he returned his attention to his eyes again. "See you tomorrow, then?" he asked.

Harry smiled. "I'll be here."

Ted smiled too, then turned away and walked back into his grandmother's house, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts beneath the beech tree.

* * *

Ted went upstairs to his room and shut the door behind him. He tossed his book onto his desk beneath the window then stretched himself out on his bed and folded his hands beneath his head as he gazed up at the ceiling. He looked over at the photograph in the frame sitting on his bedside table: the photo was of his parents, Remus and Nymphadora Lupin. He reached over and plucked the picture from its perch. He held it up before him and watched his parents inside it. They were beaming at him with their arms around each other. At the moment, Ted's mother had her back facing him as his father held her, but she faced him with her head turned to look at him over her shoulder. Happiness radiated from her smile like a solar fire.

Sometimes Nymphadora would spin around and change her appearance, often in some wacky way that both Ted, and Remus beside her in the picture, seemed to find highly amusing. He imagined that she must have done this all the time to him as a baby when she'd been alive, and if she hadn't died, she probably would have entertained him like this for years to come, maybe even when he'd gotten to the age where he'd find it too embarrassing to let her give him a kiss goodbye in public.

Other times Remus would spin Nymphadora around and then dip her in a modest and brief routine, both of them laughing as they gazed into each other's eyes for a moment before looking back out at their son. He hardly ever saw them anything but happy, so it often brightened his spirits to watch them for a while whenever his spirits needed brightening. However, there were odd moments where he'd swear Nymphadora was wiping at a telltale tear while looking out of the frame as Remus gazed out of it with nostalgic eyes, his wife's hair pressed against his cheek. There were also a few occasions where he'd seen his mother beaming out at him, while his father looked down at her wistfully—or it might be the other way around, where Remus beamed out of the frame while Nymphadora looked up at him wistfully.

Ted traced the lines of Remus' face with his forefinger. He'd always wondered why his father looked so much older than he actually was. Ted resembled his father highly—when he wasn't changing his appearance, having inherited the power of the Metamorphmagus from his Metamorphmagus mother. But otherwise he looked just like his father—pale with brown hair and brown eyes, lanky in his build, yet all without the signs of premature aging that his father inexplicably possessed—and he did also have his mother's heart-shaped face, but it was a bit longer, like his father's own long face was.

He remembered reading something in a book on nocturnal beasts and monsters that people who are werewolves tend to show signs of aging much earlier in life than people who aren't. This had given him the idea that maybe his father had been a werewolf himself. However, when he'd inquired of Andromeda about his theory—this was back when he was much younger and had yet to realize that she would never say anything to him about his father if she could help it—she had immediately snapped, "No! Of course not! I'd have died before letting your mother marry some vile and vicious werewolf!" after which she'd ended with a shudder. Since then he'd been convinced that Remus Lupin had never been a werewolf.

Yet now that he thought of it, he began to wonder if maybe his grandmother had lied to him. In his reading, Ted had learned that wizarding society general considered werewolves as nothing but filthy, threatening vermin: not only were they dangerous at full moon, but it was a common conception that werewolves were just as fierce and nasty in their human state in between the full moon, that even receiving a bite from them when they were human could pass on their curse, not just when they bit in their wolf form. Ted came to believe that this conception was actually a misconception, because he knew that Ron Weasley's brother Bill had been attacked by a werewolf named Fenrir Greyback, who at the time of said attack had not been in his werewolf state, and Bill, of course, was not a werewolf. He maybe was a little lupine in his scarred features, and preferred raw meat, which he tore at rather aggressively with his teeth when he ate it, but otherwise, he never became a fully fledged monster every full moon.

Then thinking of Bill Weasley briefly turned Ted's thoughts to Bill's daughter, Victoire, whose great-grandmother had been a veela, and his heart glowed and he smiled slowly and broadly as he pictured her in his mind, with her Weasley red hair made fiery, seductive—even slightly silvery—by the veela blood in her.

He shook his head and examined his father's beaming face and traced the lines of it again. Then another thought crossed his mind about the scars that ran across his father's visage. Where had they come from? Some battle fighting the evil forces of the terrible Lord Voldemort? It wasn't impossible.

Ted heard Andromeda beckon him from below. Heaving a sigh, he set his parents' picture back on his bedside table, and rose from the bed to join his grandmother downstairs for dinner.

* * *

The first thing Ted did on the morning of his seventeenth birthday after he'd gotten dressed was Apparate downstairs to breakfast (he'd passed the test right before school let out). As he emerged from the squeezing darkness, he came face to face with his grandmother in the kitchen, who shrieked at the sight of him appearing out of nowhere without warning.  


"Oh, Ted!" she growled. "Could've given me a heart attack! I'm not as young as I used to be, you know. I just knew you were going to pull something like that today! Ugh! What am I going to do with you?" Waving her arms about, she turned from him to finish with making breakfast.

Ted grinned impishly after her. Although he was generally well-behaved, it was obvious before he'd even started at Hogwarts that he possessed a mischievous streak. It drove Andromeda up the wall, and she often told him in an exasperated tone that he got it from his mother. And he believed her, because he knew for a fact that Nymphadora had rather lacked the ability to constantly behave herself. And so he then decided—yearning for some means to figure out his father on his own, since no one would give him any answers—that Remus Lupin had been just the opposite: well-behaved and rule-abiding—probably prefect and Head Boy at school.

Now that he thought about it, however, as he looked to the small, beautifully wrapped birthday parcel from his grandmother sitting on the kitchen table beside his empty plate, he tended to drive her up the wall even when he wasn't getting into mischief. It all had to be because for some inexplicable reason, Andromeda had highly disapproved of Remus. The evidence supported it: she never talked about him, she sometimes got annoyed by him at odd moments when he hadn't even been doing anything wrong at the time, and bringing up the subject irritated her beyond anything else. And he had learned just yesterday that she'd even gone so far as to make Harry swear not to tell him anything about Remus either. It was times like these that Ted experienced that tug at his heart, wishing desperately that his parents hadn't died.

He sat down at the table as Andromeda served breakfast, and while they ate he opened his present from her: it was a watch—the watch that wizards receive as a tradition when they come of age—and this watch had six moons instead of hands. Each moon sported a different phase in the moon's monthly cycle, and they all glowed brilliantly against the misty night sky background as if each of them were the real moon. It wasn't new, but it only had to be about one generation old. He looked up at Andromeda and said, "Thank you," in a voice hushed with the awe with which he regarded the timepiece.

His grandmother said nothing for a long moment. She was staring at him very strangely, as if she was deciding whether or not to tell him something that she'd give anything not to, something perhaps that would taste vile on her tongue as she said it. But Ted waited. When at last she spoke, she sighed, lowered her eyes to her plate as she took another bite of her crumpet, and said, "That watch belonged to your father."

At these words, Ted's view of the watch shifted at once, and now he regarded it as something like a sacred ancient relic. He waited to see if his grandmother would expand further on what she'd said, but she did not. She finished her food, and then sent her empty plate to the sink, where she had it magically cleaned with another flick of her wand. Ted sighed and set the watch on the table beside his own empty plate. He pointed at it with his own wand—willow and unicorn hair, ten inches—and sent it magically up to his room on his bedside table beside the picture of his parents.

* * *

Ted spent most of the day in the den upstairs, leafing through the family albums. His mother waved merrily at him from different ages across her life: he saw her as a fussing infant, her hair changing color every five minutes; he saw her on Halloween as a toddler, relishing in transforming her face in frightening ways at the camera; he saw her riding a toy broomstick, and then later, he saw her riding a real one—a Comet Two Sixty; he saw her in a picture on her seventh Christmas. He saw her with any number of boyfriends whose pictures Andromeda had managed to get—in all of them she wore a pained expression of exasperated embarrassment—but not one of these pictures, he was sure, contained a boyfriend that was his father. Although that was probably to be expected anyway: from the looks of it, Nymphadora had still been in school when all these boyfriend pictures were taken, and another thing Harry had told him was that Remus had been about thirteen years older than his mother, which meant that by the time Nymphadora had started at Hogwarts, Remus had already been and gone.

He came to a picture of her at her seventh Christmas. She was standing with her parents, making her face transform into comical ones while Andromeda kept scolding her, and Ted Tonks—for whom Teddy had been named—laughed along with Sirius not only Harry's late godfather, but Nymphadora's second cousin on Andromeda's side, which mind-bogglingly enough meant that Ted's godfather's godfather was also Ted's third cousin (even if he had died almost two years before Ted was even born). But the odd thing about the picture was that the left edge of it showed evidence of having been severed—by means of tearing—from the rest of the picture. In fact, Ted noticed that Sirius, in between laughing at his little cousin's transformations, looked in the direction of the tear—which ran vertically beside him like a wall—and wore a look that was both forlorn and resentful.

Ted pulled the picture out from its pocket and turned it over. On the back he saw it was labeled simply: 25 December 1980 – X-mas at Godric's Hollow. "I wonder…" Ted said to himself, letting the sentence hang, wondering what it was that he was wondering. His thoughts were interrupted by Andromeda's voice calling for him from downstairs: "Teddy! The Potters are here!"

"Coming, Grandmum!" he shouted back. He stowed the picture back in the album and replaced it on the shelf before Apparating downstairs to the living room. His entrance was greeted by enthusiastic clapping. Blinking, Ted saw that his fans were none other than little Lily and Albus Potter.

"Oh come on," said their older brother, James, "he's just Apparating. We've seen Mum and Dad do it loads of times."

"Yeah, but now Teddy's doing it too!" Lily squealed.

"What's it like?" Albus asked, wide-eyed.

"Well, it's not very comfortable," Ted admitted, sitting down in a chair near the fireplace, pressing the palms of his hands together between his knees. "I don't mind it, really. It hurts some, but it's over pretty quick. But your dad, if given the choice between Apparition and a broomstick—"

"He'd pick the broomstick, thank you very much," said Harry.

Ted, Albus, Lily, and James all looked round to see Harry leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded.

"Happy seventeenth, Ted," he said, grinning.

"Cheers, Harry," said Ted with a grin of his own.

They sat down to dinner in the kitchen, all seven of them—Ted, Harry, Ginny, James, Albus, Lily, and Andromeda. Afterward they sang Happy Birthday, and then served the cake, during which Lily shoved present after present into Ted's lap. After he'd opened the ones from Ginny (a tin of her scrumptious home-made peanut brittle), James (a basket full of Chocolate Frogs—Ted was an immense chocolate lover), Albus (a pair of sunglasses with lenses charmed so that the wearer could change the color of them at will), and Lily (a Golden Snitch keychain), Harry passed him the one from him: a big book about defense against the dark arts—Ted's favorite and best subject at school.

"Thanks, Harry," said Ted with sincere gratitude. Ted loved books in general, so getting one about his favorite subject was of even greater appeal to him. As Andromeda and Ginny began clearing up the table, Ted was already eagerly leafing through it. He came to learn that this book was more than just what you'd find in the average Hogwarts textbook—there were diagrams and in-depth chapters on the different subject areas of the dark arts and how to defend oneself against them, and the pictures, well…Ted quickly learned that the pictures were all of the defense against the dark arts in action, very accurate, and just a tad graphic, going so far as to show the dark arts in moments of triumph. He stared for a moment at a picture of a werewolf attacking a bunch of medieval villagers, his lips drenched in dripping blood, his feral eyes gleaming with untamable hunger….

Ted felt Harry come to stand behind his chair and peer over his shoulder.

"I know it's a bit much," said Harry. "I mean it could give a lot of people nightmares, but at least it's a book about defending oneself against the dark arts."

"As opposed to using the dark arts?" said Ted, looking round up over his shoulder at Harry and quirking an eyebrow.

"Exactly," said Harry. He considered Ted fondly for a moment, then changed the subject, his face turning suddenly serious. "Listen, I need to have a word with you in private. Not here."

"My room," Ted suggested. He pointed at all of his presents with his wand and sent them up to his bedroom, before he led Harry upstairs to it on foot. After he switched on the light and closed the door behind them, he turned to see that his presents all sat intact in a pile on his bed, and Harry meanwhile was looking at the picture of parents on the bedside table. He was tilting the frame back slightly with one hand, so he could see it without really picking it up. He had his other hand thrust in his trouser pocket. Ted watched him for a moment, wondering what could possibly be running through his godfather's mind right now.

After a minute Harry righted the picture and as he took his hand away, he noticed Ted's father's watch ticking away beside it. "This your watch, then?" he said, turning at last to look at Ted.

"Yep," said Ted. "Grandmum gave it to me this morning at breakfast." He crossed over to Harry, slid his presents over a little to make room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. "She told me it was my dad's."

Harry tore his eyes away from the watch, his eyes widening in surprise. "Really?" he said. "This is your dad's watch?"

"According to Grandmum it is."  


Harry looked down at the watch again and chuckled. "How fitting," he muttered to himself as he faintly ran his finger over the revolving moons in the watch face.

"What's fitting?" Ted asked.

Harry shook his head, seeming to return from some alternate reality. "Nothing," he said. "Never mind. Listen," he went on, taking his hand away from the watch and walking around to sit on the bed beside his godson, "I have something else for you, but I don't want your grandmother knowing anything about it."

Ted's stomach squirmed. Could it be…?

"You won't tell her, will you?" Harry asked.

"May my tongue be hexed into getting tied up in knots if I do," said Ted, grinning that impish grin of his.

"Right," Harry laughed. "I knew I could count on you." He reached into his pocket, and produced a gold Gobstone. He set it down in the middle of the floor before them. He took out his wand and pointed it at the Gobstone, glimmering in the light, and muttered an incantation that transfigured the Gobstone into a great big cardboard box sealed with Packing Spellotape. On top Ted saw it had been labeled in black ink: ANSWERS. He looked at his godfather, not daring to breathe. Finally he managed to stammer,"Is this—What's—?"

"Yesterday, shortly after I left here," Harry explained, stowing away his wand, "I had given what you said a lot of thought, and well…you know me: I live for the risk of getting in trouble. Anyway, so I did a little digging, and managed to find out the address of your father's house. It hadn't been lived in for ages, not since your parents lived in it. And before it was your dad's parents' house, your dad grew up in it as a boy, so…it was a goldmine, really. I went through everything, and I didn't bring it all here—" He gave the box a light tap with his toe "—otherwise I might as well have dragged the whole house here to you, but…I brought the…important stuff. And, hey...I was able to put it in a box after all, wasn't I?" he added with an I'm-oh-so-clever-aren't-I? laugh.

Ted was struck almost dumb. "Harry, I—This is—I mean—"

"You're welcome, kiddo," said Harry with a smile. He ruffled Ted's hair as he rose to his feet and left the room.


	2. Letters

**Chapter Two ****Letters**

Ted remained stationary for a split-second in the wake of Harry's departure. Then he dived onto his knees beside the box and tore through the Packing Spellotape. Parting the box flaps, he peered inside to find: a neatly packed collection of little black books, which took up most of the box, but wedged perfectly in the bit of empty space left over was a big cardboard shoebox.

Excitement roared through his veins. Quickly he pulled the shoebox out, but as he did so his hands shook so badly that he dropped it and it fell open. Half the contents slid out of it. Ted reached out to slide it all back in, his hand falling on a clipping from The Daily Prophet on top of the pile. The photo distracted him from cleaning up the mess: it was the photo of a woman and a wizard standing together. The woman was seated, holding a newborn baby, while the wizard stood behind her with his hands on her shoulders. Both of them were beaming proudly.

Ted picked up the clipping and examined it more closely. The woman was very beautiful, with long hair (the picture wasn't in color, but Ted guessed that it was blonde), and the wizard highly resembled his father, minus the scars and the premature signs of aging. Beneath the clipping was the caption: _(clockwise from left) Mr John Lupin, his wife Joanne, and their newborn son, Remus. _Ted looked at the infant in the photo. He wasn't fussing much. He was no bigger than a small loaf of bread, and he blinked in sheer wonder at his surroundings. He looked perfectly healthy, nothing old about him at all. And he didn't have any scars on him anywhere, which ruled out the small possibility that he'd been born with them. The clipping was dated 11 March 1960, and according to the brief story below, Remus had been born the day before, on the 10th. Also, according to the clipping, the woman, Joanne—John Lupin's wife, and Remus' mother—was a Muggle.

He returned the clipping to the box, and slid everything else back in with it. He righted the box, setting it before him on the floor where he sat cross-legged. He riffled through it and found another clipping. This one was dated 30 June 1967. There was no picture, and the headline read: WATCHMAKER'S SON PAYS PRICE FOR FOLLY. He scanned the article, and discovered that John Lupin had had a row with a man in his watch shop one day over something that John had considered very trivial, but the man in question had considered it of great importance—and not only that, but he was also a werewolf. The nameless werewolf got John so worked up that John outright insulted him and booted him from the premises of his shop. Little did John know that he would pay dearly for offending the lycanthrope. On the night of the following full moon, John's seven-year old son Remus had allegedly gone outside after dinner (here Ted's heart began to beat a little faster) to stargaze. It wasn't long before the same werewolf Remus' father had offended emerged in his monstrous full-moon form without warning from the darkness. It tore open the screaming young Remus' shirt to expose the shoulder just as John and Joanne burst from the house with John shooting spells at the beast. The werewolf was quick, and in the blink of an eye he nipped Remus' exposed shoulder and disappeared into the night. In less than a millisecond, Remus had gone from normal young wizard to cursed, deranged monster.

The immediate effect of the bite was pain, and a dizziness that caused Remus to fall into a state of unconsciousness. Joanne wept over him as if he'd been killed, and then she carried him as she and John went back into the house. They summoned a healer—although of course nothing could be done—but they couldn't face the horrible truth that their son had been turned into a werewolf right before their very eyes, before they even had the chance to prevent it.

Ted allowed this discovery to sink in. So he'd been right…his father had been a werewolf…. His grandmother had lied to him…. The resentment only lasted for a second. He realized that he shouldn't at all be surprised: he knew the reputation werewolves held in wizarding society, and so it would only be natural for parents to disapprove of their daughter marrying a werewolf, for the mother to deny the truth that her son-in-law was a werewolf if she could help it. So this was probably the reason his grandmother had not cared much for his father, if at all: because of what he was, because her daughter had married him into the family.

A shiver went through Ted's spine as another thought struck him: it was lucky that he himself was not a werewolf, that whatever genetic curse had flowed in his father's veins for the rest of his life had not been passed on to him. However, he was certain that it had been a close call.

He stuck the clipping inside the box and the next thing he picked up was an unopened envelope that looked as though it had gone through the Muggle post, rather than the wizarding one. He ripped it open to find a letter written by Joanne:

_3 August 1967 __Dear Mother,__  
__  
_

_I know you and I have had this issue between us since I married John, and I really don't want you to say I told you so. I knew there'd be adjustments to marrying a wizard, especially since you never knew such a world existed until I first introduced you to him. I realise that what I'm about to tell you is what you'd call a risk in marrying one. _

_Things have been just awful. Your grandson, Remus (whom you still have not met because of your continued refusal to have anything to do with ME anymore), has been made the innocent victim of a werewolf's bite, and now he himself is a werewolf! Do you even believe me? Oh you must, because it has left me quite distraught, especially now when I feel you'll send this letter straight back to me after you've read it—if you even bother. _

_This past full moon was the first one where Remus underwent his transformation. It was terrible. In the evening we took him outside and told him that he had to stay out. He'd been told what was going to happen. When the full moon rose, he was going to turn into a werewolf, just like the one that bit him a month ago. I don't know how I did it. He was frightened, and he begged me and John to stay with him, but we couldn't, we knew we didn't want him waking up after it was over and finding out he'd killed one of us—or BOTH of us even—in his werewolf state! It'd tear him apart. _

_He broke down in tears, and I couldn't stop sobbing as John and I barred his way into the house, bolting the front door, and then John placed protective spells around it. The whole time I had my ear pressed to the front door and it wasn't long before the moon rose and we heard Remus' first strangled yell. Why did it have to be such a painful ordeal? Why did it have to be such a violent agony for him? For ANY werewolf? As he continued to scream and yell, I lost my nerve and started to unbolt the door so I could run out to him and help him—I didn't know how—but I had to ease his suffering somehow. I couldn't stand that my baby was out there dealing with this torture all on his own. _

_Luckily John held me back and rebolted the door just as we heard the screams turn to growls, and soon the sound of a werewolf's howl filled the air and echoed through the hills. _

_We spent the night with our backs to the door, and John held me while I slept. I don't know whether he slept or not. He hasn't been sleeping well at all. He can't stop kicking himself, he blames himself for this, because he insulted the werewolf that bit Remus in the first place. Although it pains me, I think I'll have to accept that John may NEVER forgive himself. _

_In the morning we had to look for Remus. We had no idea where he might be, and I began to fear we'd never find him. When we finally found him he was lying naked and unconscious beside a stream. He was half-frozen, and he had blood on his lips and hands. John wrapped him up in a blanket and we carried him home. For the next couple of days he was sicker than I've ever seen him, and I think I did everything right—administered all the right potions at the right time—not bad for a non-magical,_ _eh?—but at the time I was in hysterics that I'd do it all wrong and maybe even kill him. And when I looked in his eyes, I could see a change in him. He seemed a little older than he is. Traumatic experiences can do that to a person, I know. _

_I got him to talk to me about it some. He said that the moment the moon rose and its light hit his eyes, he'd heard a great roaring in his ears, and his entire body was plunged into agony, like it was all slowly starting to rip itself apart, and his limbs shook uncontrollably. He said he thought he was going to explode, that it was all so painful he believed he was going to die. Just when the pain had reached its peak, he recalled falling into darkness, and that was the last he could remember before waking up in his bed. BUT HE COULDN'T EVEN CRY. I know my little boy, and he'd cry about anything frightening that had happened to him. But this frightening thing, becoming a_ _werewolf, he did NOT shed a single tear over that. He's only seven, and I'm afraid he's already had a loss of innocence. _

_I don't know how we'll be able to keep doing this once every month. But we're going to do it somehow. As for school, I fear he may not be able to go. People in the wizarding world are highly prejudiced against werewolves. You probably wouldn't blame them, would you, Mother? _

_Anyhow, I hope you are well, and I'd appreciate it so much if you'd just write back to me and tell me…anything. I miss you—all of you—Daddy, and Florence, and everybody else. It hurts me that none of you will talk to me anymore. Mother, I beg you, at least drop a line so I know you're safe. I can't say anymore, except that times at the moment are very dangerous, especially for Muggles: Muggles like our family! So, please. You don't even have to talk to me. Just let me know you're still alive. Please.__  
__  
__Love,__  
__  
__Jo_

As Ted skimmed through the letter again, he felt a great upsurge of pity for his father and what he'd had to learn to accept. He also felt one for his father's mother: it appeared as though from the day the Muggle woman Joanne had announced her marriage to a wizard, and introduced him to her own mother, her own mother had not at all been pleased. Like Harry's Muggle relatives, the Dursleys, Joanne's family's impression of this wizard John Lupin and the wizarding world from which he'd come was nothing more than an insane freak show, and since then had estranged itself from Joanne completely. What was even worse was that this kept Joanne from knowing whether or not her family was safe (Ted had a hunch that by Joanne's description of the times then being "very dangerous" indicated that by then, Lord Voldemort had already been burning a horrible mark on the world, both Muggle and magical alike).  


He checked the letter's envelope, and sure enough, it was marked to be returned to its original address. Apparently Remus' Muggle grandmother had returned it without even opening it, just as Joanne thought she might. He returned the letter to the shoebox and found another one, this one sent through the wizarding post, and written by John, and much shorter:

_1 May 1971 _

_Dear Professor Albus Dumbledore: _

_I am writing on behalf of my son, Remus, who is eleven this year, and of the age to begin his magical education. I do not know if you recall reading it in the papers a few years ago, but my son was bit by a werewolf at the age of seven, and is now one himself, obviously. I know you haven't sent out your acceptance letters yet to incoming students, but I thought I'd write before then because my wife and I are concerned that Remus will not be able to attend Hogwarts at all because of his condition. _

_We have hope, however, now that you are the new Headmaster. We were quite sure that the one whom you succeeded would have disapproved point blank of the idea of sending Remus to school. But you, sir, are a different matter. You are not like most wizards. You are open-minded and are willing to give everyone at least a first chance instead of dismissing someone just because there's something about them perhaps to fear or despise or ridicule. _

_Remus so wants to go: he doesn't have any friends, and I think friends would do him a world of good. Please take this situation into consideration, and send us a reply as soon as you can. _

_Thank you, and hoping you are well, _

_John Lupin_

Ted smiled. He was sure that Dumbledore would have come through. He had learned all too well from Harry and many others about the greatness—and the not-so-greatness-but-then-he's-only-human—of Albus Dumbledore. He returned to the letter and picked up the next one, and sure enough, it was from Dumbledore himself:

_5 May 1971 __Dear Mr John Lupin,__  
__  
__First of all, please do forgive the lateness of my reply! Actually, I had made my decision almost as soon as I'd finished reading your letter, but then being headmaster has its responsibilities, of course, if you catch my drift. _

_Anyway, as to your son, Remus, I certainly see no reason why he cannot attend Hogwarts, but I appreciate that you informed me first before acceptance letters were sent to new students. It is possible that because of your son's condition, he might not have received one. I can assure that he would have anyway, however, but I'm sure you just wanted to check. _

_However, I appreciate you told me, full stop. It would have been a rather nasty shock if you hadn't, and during the full moon in September he transformed in his dormitory and ate __everyone in his House. (Please also forgive me if you found that last bit of dry, dark humour in any way offensive.). _

_I will of course need to speak with your son in private about what precautions we will take, and what special arrangements shall be made, but I assure you that I can easily find some way to deal with this without endangering your son, or others. _

_So, I eagerly expect to see him and all other new students at the start-of-term feast on the first of September! _

_With warm regards, _

_Albus Dumbledore__  
_  
"I knew it," Ted muttered under his breath. "Knew he'd come through." He stuck the letter back in the shoebox, and then rummaged around to see what else he could find. He found a lot of drawings, all of them done by his father. It appeared Remus had had a talent for sketching. The ones from his early youth were beautiful, but then he came across ones that illustrated abstract images that resembled shards of broken glass, or savage beasts with burning red eyes peering from dark abysses. Ted had a feeling that these darker drawings were drawn after Remus had been condemned to life as a werewolf.

TAP-TAP-TAP!

Ted jumped inside his skin at the sound. It came from the window, and Ted looked to see that it was just an owl delivering him a letter. He stowed his father's drawings away in the shoebox and crossed to the window. When he opened it a regal snowy owl swooped inside, dropping the letter on Ted's desk before looping once around the room and coming to land on the windowsill, where it perched and sat. Ted recognized it as Victoire Weasley's owl, Mercutio. Why on earth she'd named him that, Ted didn't have a clue.

He picked up the letter, addressed to him in Victoire's beautiful, fluid handwriting. He found that he trembled slightly as he opened it—she had never written him a letter before. In fact, he and she had never actually spoken until four days ago, when they'd both coincidentally ended up in the hospital wing at the same time, but for different reasons (his case had been awful scratches across his face caused by the pricking spines of a particularly viscous Clouting Cactus during herbology, and her case had been an accident in defense against the dark arts involving a Teeth-Enlarging Hex). The only reason he recognized her handwriting was because he often watched her while she studied—but without her knowing it, of course. He had basically crushed on her since his fourth year, but he could never pluck up the courage to talk to her. His heart began to hammer in his chest as he read:

_22 April 2015_

_Happy Birthday, Ted! Or as my dear maman would say, Bon Anniversaire! _

_Anyway, I heard that it was your birthday today, so I hope it's been a good one, and I hope the rest of your Easter holidays are going well too. I know that we haven't actually spoken to each other before a few days ago when school let out, but when we HAD spoken to each other it was very enjoyable. I really hope we can get to know each other better. Since I started Hogwarts I've seen you from afar—like in the Gryffindor common room and all—but since you're two years ahead of me, I suppose it was a bit of a barrier. Yet I swear that you were looking at me too, sometimes, but maybe I was wrong. __  
_

_Really, it's so strange that you and I have never actually spoken until four days ago! And it was only because we both just happened to need to go the hospital wing at the exact same time (I was really glad when those awful scratches disappeared from your face, I suppose herbology isn't your best subject?)! But I mean you'd think we'd have spoken by now, since your godfather, Harry, is best friends with my Uncle Ron, and married to my Aunt Ginny, but then that's a rather distant connection between the two of us, isn't it? Hmmm. I wonder what that DOES make US, then…? _

_I really look forward to seeing you again when we get back to Hogwarts; perhaps even before then, on the train. After talking to you for the first time, it's now my personal opinion that Metamorphmagi are VERY interesting people. _

_Sincerely, _

_Victoire _

Ted hardly dared to breathe. Did this mean that…she _fancied _him? Like _he _fancied _her_? He looked up from the letter at Mercutio still perched on the windowsill, and realized that he was staying because Victoire expected a reply. But what should he say? Should he just let loose and tell her how he felt about her? No, that was moving rather quickly. Yet, hadn't she just told _him_ how _she_ felt? He couldn't be sure. She was being awfully tantalizing with him. She hadn't said it right out. In fact, if he didn't know better, he'd say she was _daring_ him to admit his feelings for her.

Then what if she was just leading him on? What if she didn't really fancy him, and she was just playing with him because in reality her impression of him after their first conversation in the hospital wing was that he was an idiot and a freak. Not that he'd given her any reason to think that, but when he was around her he always felt like he was suddenly in the middle of doing something stupid.

But she expected a reply from him, so she couldn't be just playing a trick on him, right? Then again, maybe she expected a reply so she could laugh at him even more.

He yawned and glanced at the clock, which read: 9:40pm. It was getting rather late, and it sounded as though the Potters had already taken their leave, and his grandmother had gone to bed for the night. He supposed he ought to as well, and decided he would think of a reply tomorrow and that in the meantime, Mercutio would have to kip with Luna—his own owl—a barn owl that Ted had grown quite fond of. She had been his present for his eleventh birthday. Harry was the one who'd given her to him. As he coaxed Mercutio to join Luna in her cage, he remembered Harry telling him that his first owl, Hedwig, had also been a snowy owl. Sadly he recalled Harry's tale of how Hedwig had been killed during an escape from pursuing Death Eaters.

Luna was not too pleased with her guest, but Ted promised her he'd make it up to her after Mercutio had gone. Once he'd made sure that Mercutio was set for the night, he packed up the ANSWERS box and transfigured it back into a gold Gobstone. He sat that on his bedside table beside his wand, his father's watch, and the picture of his parents. As he crawled into bed, Ted thought about talking to Harry about what he should write in reply to Victoire's letter. He'd never really talked to his godfather about girls—except when he'd given Ted _the_ Talk a few years ago. Then remembering that made Ted shiver.

Why did this whole romance business have to be so complicated? he wondered as he extinguished the lamps in his room and drifted off to sleep in the dark.


	3. Friendly Flashback

**Chapter Three **

**  
****Friendly Flashback**

The next morning, straight after breakfast, Ted did his holiday homework for about an hour, before he gave into the lure of discovering more in that ANSWERS box. After he stowed his books, ink, quill, and parchment away, he took the gold Gobstone out and placed it on the floor. He transfigured it back into the ANSWERS box, and got down on his knees before it. He poked around inside and pulled out the shoebox to see if there was anything he hadn't looked at yet. He found an old enchanted yo-yo with the spell worn off of it, an old Exploding Snap game, an old mini-set of Gobstones, a pheasant feather quill, a chart of the constellations in the night sky charmed to glitter like real stars, an aged and filthy mini-telescope, and a dusty old spyglass, as well as quite a few books. Two that grabbed his interest were a pocket guide on defensive magic, and pocket guide to the wonders of the cosmos. The other books also had something to do with defense against the dark arts and stargazing, and now Ted had an inkling as to where he'd inherited such a keen interest in those particular subjects. Actually, Ted was an extremely bright and clever student even in herbology (the Sorting Hat had seriously considered putting him in Ravenclaw at first). The whole affair with that tentacula that had landed him in the hospital wing four days ago had been a complete accident, and more the fault of his half-witted partner than his own. Perhaps he was sometimes a bit too clever for his own good, which was probably why he'd never been made a prefect.

He also found his father's letters to his parents, which he'd written to them while at Hogwarts. Each of them all had, at least once, written in them some form of reassurance that he was doing just fine in school. However, there was little else he was able to read: the ink in all of these letters seemed to be extremely blotchy, as if they'd been left out in the rain to let the ink run. He was disappointed, because when he came across these he'd really been excited: it meant he'd finally be reading something written in Remus' own hand—and reading what people wrote was a really good way to get to know someone, get inside their head.

He stuck these letters back in the shoebox, and finding that he'd gone through everything in it, stuck it back in the larger box. Now all that was left was the huge number of small black leather-bound books. They were all identical aside from their labels, which had been written in silver ink along their spines. They were all labeled in years. Ted cast his eyes on the oldest one, the one labeled, "1971".  
_  
__That'd be the year he started Hogwarts_, Ted thought, and he realized that all of these books must be his father's personal journals. Excitement bubbled inside him once more as he plucked the one labeled, "1971" from the box. Leaning his back against the side of his bed as he sat back on the floor, he carefully opened the journal. It did not start (as Ted had expected it to) at the beginning of the year, in the month of January. The first entry was dated 31 August, and it was rather cynical for an eleven-year old boy's journal entry:

_31 August __Mum bought me this journal, because she thinks I should start writing down my thoughts and feelings, since I don't seem to talk about them as much as I used to. I suppose I'll get some use out of it, because I probably won't make any friends at Hogwarts. I was looking forward to going, but now I think that—even though no one but Dumbledore and the teachers know about my...being a werewolf, well…. Anyway, people will just look at me and see I'm a mutant monster freak. They won't even need to know exactly what's wrong. __They'll just be able to tell that I'm different. So, out of loneliness, I'll probably end up talking about everything to this stupid journal and making it my best friend. _

The pity squeezed at Ted's heart again, that his father had not awoken on that September morning feeling excited and nervous: just hopeless and—forget nervous—terrified, was a better word for it. It was obvious that his lycanthropy had made him extremely self-conscious, perhaps more so that he normally would have been. He turned the page to the next entry and continued to read:

_1 September __Although I'm happy—ha! I'm actually happy!—to say that this journal may very well NOT need to serve as the only friend I'll ever have, perhaps I'll use it anyway. It was the only thing I could turn to, to express how happy I am without fearing my secret being found out! However, it's wonderful to know that I might actually write CHEERFUL things in it—like I am right now! See, when I got to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters to take the Hogwarts Express for the very first time…._

* * *

Remus John Lupin followed his father, who was showing him where to stow his trunk on the Hogwarts Express. The mist that the great scarlet locomotive belched reminded him of foggy nights on full moon, and the thought made his spirits sink even lower—and they were pretty low to begin with. Nobody except Dumbledore and the Hogwarts staff knew that he was a werewolf. But his classmates…while they didn't know exactly, he felt sure that they'd see something about him that was strange and dark, and would simply avoid him, and he'd never make even a single friend.

Remus looked around at the other students, and while he felt a sense of isolation from these other people who all were free of a lycanthropic burden, he still mildly enjoyed watching them. Perhaps it was the closest he'd ever come to knowing any of them.

The first family he and his father passed on their way to rejoin his mother (after divesting themselves of Remus' trunk and trolley) was a formidable looking one, comprised of a mother, a father, and two brothers. They were all dressed in fine, black and silver clothes, and they had black hair that reached their shoulders, and the older of the two brothers—who was quite handsome for an eleven-year old, at least more so than his rat-faced younger sibling—seemed to be having a rather intense exchange with their mother, while his little brother and their father stood on the sidelines—the little brother clearly entertained, the father aloof and silently impatient, holding a black cane capped with a silver serpent's head.

"And what're you gonna do if I'm _not_ in Slytherin, eh Mum?" the elder brother sneered. "You gonna disown me?"

"You _will _be in Slytherin, Sirius," his mother said with quiet menace. "No Black has ever been in any house _other_ than Slytherin. Your fate is sealed by your blood and birthright, you ungrateful worm."

"Oh, you're getting it now, _Queerius_," the little brother jeered.

"Shut up, Regulus!" the older brother snapped back.

As their voices died away, Remus smiled slightly. He'd found the rebellious older brother's defiance rather amusing, despite how violently edgy the scene had been.

They passed another family—a mother and her short, anxious son.

"Mum! I can't find my Remembrall _anywhere_!" the boy whined, clutching at the front of his mother's robes.

"Peter Reinhold Pettigrew, I swear," his mother sighed exasperatedly.

Evidently this was not the first time this Peter Pettigrew had lost something important. The bespectacled boy with untidy, jet-black hair in the family next to them seemed to have problems of his own, although they weren't about lost possessions.

"Dad, why can't first-years try out for Quidditch?" the boy asked. "I've got the old Potter family talent for Seeking. I could catch a Snitch easy in my mouth with my hands tied behind my back and my eyes closed!"

The boy's mother smiled, while his father laughed and said, "James, you don't even have a broom—"

"I _did_," the boy called James growled. "It's not _my_ fault I crashed into our barn and got it split in half beyond repair."

"Oh, James," his mother sighed as she shook her head.

"Now that we're _talking_ about brooms," James went on rather slyly, "how soon do you think you can get me a new one?"

"First-years aren't allowed to have brooms," his father explained.

"WHAT?"

Remus was surprised at how enjoyable it was just to listen to these families' conversations as they saw their children off on the train. However, the next family he and his father passed was just the opposite. It was another two-some of a boy with his mother. They were both dressed in black, but unlike the first family Remus had observed, the Blacks, this small family's clothes weren't fine at all. They were just average.

The boy had sallow skin and wore a downcast expression, while his mother ran her fingers through his long, greasy black hair.

"Don't you worry," she said. "It won't matter what House you're in—"

"Don't talk to me," the boy snapped. He batted her hand away from his head and turned his back on her.

"Severus, please don't hate me like this," his mother implored, but very exhaustedly so. "Some Muggles are good people—your father—"

"And don't you _dare _talk about _him,_" Severus growled.

His mother sighed but said nothing more.

As Remus continued walking, he saw Severus raise his eyes and gaze over in the direction of the next family nearby. The scene occurring here left Remus so transfixed that he stopped walking all together for a moment as he listened.

It was another family of four. The mother and father had to be Muggles, as they were dressed in Muggle clothing, and looking around at everything like small children at a spectacular fireworks display. Their two daughters were a little ways off, having some sort of argument. The slightly smaller redheaded sister seemed to be imploring with her brunette older sister, but her older sister was already stalking away from her, and over her shoulder she spat, "_Freak_!" as she stormed away to stand with their gawking Muggle parents. So only the younger sister was a witch….

Remus continued to look at them over his shoulder, dragging behind from his father. He saw the greasy-haired boy called Severus—having practically abandoned his woeful mother—take a tentative step towards the redheaded girl.

"Lily?" he said meekly, yet not unkindly either.

But the redheaded girl called Lily spun on her heels at the sound of his voice and ran the other way, pushing past Remus, giving him a brief glimpse of her bright green eyes. It suddenly struck him that she was very pretty. And then he had an inexplicable urge to follow her. Without realizing it he'd stopped walking altogether.

"Remus!"

Remus jumped and looked around to see his parents approaching him.

"Wondered where you'd got to, son," said John Lupin when they'd reached him, giving a laugh that sounded half-amused and half-anxious.

"Oh…sorry," Remus muttered. He looked up at his mother, and saw that she was smiling fragilely at him.

"You're growing up so fast, Remus," she said fondly, reaching out and running her fingers lightly through his bangs, smoothing them out. Her voice cracked slightly when she said his name, and Remus thought she might start crying. Ever since he'd become a werewolf she was nearly always openly vexed about him.

"Mum? Dad?" he said quietly. "Do you know what Dumbledore's planning to do about my—my problem?"

"He just said someone would come to take you up to the hospital wing," his father answered. "And you and he and Madam Pomfrey will talk about everything there. I don't know when; probably tonight, after the feast." He checked his watch. "It's nearly eleven, Jo."

Joanne Lupin put her arms around Remus' shoulders. She kissed him on the forehead then pressed his hair against her cheek, clutching him. Remus returned the embrace, wishing she didn't fret so much. She had good reason to over-worry, but he still wished that she wouldn't.

"Jo," John said softly. "He's got to get going."

Joanne finally released Remus, cupping his face in her hands for a moment before pulling away completely and straightening up. Remus saw her wipe flusteredly at her eyes.

"Take care, son," said John, pulling Remus into a very fierce hug that Remus had not braced himself for. He couldn't remember his father ever embracing him so tightly. Luckily he didn't try to prolong the embrace, like Joanne had. When he released him, he sniffed, taking a tiny step back as he reached out to ruffle his son's hair. "You'll do fantastically," he said.

And there was that awful glimmer of guilt that always hung somewhere in his father's eyes whenever he looked at Remus. John had never completely forgiven himself for offending that werewolf into reaping his revenge by biting and cursing his only son to a life of darkness.

A sharp whistle pierced the air. It was the last minute call for everyone to get on-board.

Remus boarded the train with another group of nervous-looking first-years. As quick as he could, he found a window where he could stick out his head. He searched about for his parents in the crowd of other families gathering near the train for last-minute farewells. But he couldn't seem to find them anywhere. Before he knew it, the train was moving forward, gradually gathering speed, before it rounded a corner, and Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters disappeared.

Remus heaved a sigh and withdrew from the window to find a compartment. In his jacket he had a book—his pocket guide to defensive magic. His plan was to find a compartment that was empty, and curl up with his book there. Unfortunately each compartment he passed already had at least one occupant. The train was racing through the countryside now, and halfway down the corridor, Remus was beginning to think he'd have to settle for a compartment with one or two other occupants.

Then he saw Lily again. She emerged from the compartment just ahead of him, in a huff. Remus, unable to help himself, stopped and stared, as she was followed by that greasy-haired boy Severus, who stumbled slightly, as thought someone had tried to trip him.

"Just ignore them," Lily said to him as she and he walked down the corridor. "What are _you_ looking at?" she added brusquely to Remus as she and Severus shoved past him.

Remus looked after them. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, somewhat taken aback by her attitude. He glanced back at the compartment from which Lily and Severus had just emerged, and from inside it he heard the laughter of what sounded like two other boys. Something told him that they had just insulted Lily just because they thought it was funny. Remus couldn't fathom why, but for some reason he had something to say about this. Forgetting about how he'd promised himself earlier that morning that he wouldn't talk to anybody (he'd figured that no one would want to anyhow), he approached the compartment door and poked his head inside, only to discover the two lone occupants were none other than the boy called Sirius and the boy called James, sitting across from each other—well, James sat, while Sirius _lounged._

Remus, suddenly self-conscious again, cleared his throat nervously.

James and Sirius looked around at him, and the color rose in his cheeks.

"Erm…hi," said Remus, trying to appear casual as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb with his arms folded. Unfortunately it only made him feel more foolish.

"Hi," said James and Sirius together.

Remus was relieved to hear the friendliness in their voices. But instead of getting to the point, he thought maybe it'd be better if he got on amicable terms with them first before he said anything about Lily. "Er…have room for one more?" he asked tentatively.

James and Sirius exchanged a fleeting glance and then looked back up at Remus.

"Sure," said James. "Three's a crowd, right?"

"Thanks," said Remus, smiling rather shyly as he entered the compartment. He closed the sliding door behind him and went over to sit down by the window on James' side, a little apart from him and Sirius. They were being so nice to him. Why would they do something like insult a pretty girl? And speaking of nice, he'd nearly forgotten the courtesy of giving them his name. "I'm Remus, by the way," he said, folding his legs to his chest and hugging his knees. "Remus Lupin."

"Cool," said James, grinning pleasantly. "I'm James Potter. And that there's my new best mate, Sirius Black."

"James, you're embarrassing me," said Sirius, also grinning as he rolled his eyes in mock embarrassment. He had his hands folded behind his head and one foot up on the seat while the other rested on the floor.

"'Course that might change," said James, shifting his position to mirror Sirius'. "His whole family's been in Slytherin. If he's in Slytherin too, well…I just don't know…."

Sirius snorted and looked out into the corridor through the glass of the sliding compartment door. "Like I said before, I think I'll break the family tradition, thank you very much. Unlike the rest of my…_family_—" He said this word with an obvious note of contempt—"_I_ am not exactly Slytherin material." He rolled his eyes and glanced over at James and Remus. "Can't _stand_ their obsession with being pure-blooded, you know?"

"I don't blame you, mate," said James. "If I were you, I couldn't stand it either."

"Nor could I," said Remus quietly.

"And if anything, I don't want to be in Slytherin," said Sirius, "if it's got people like that git Severus—or Snivellus—or whatever his name is."

"I like Snivellus better," James tittered.

"Are you talking about that kid who was with that redheaded girl I saw storming out of here a minute ago?" Remus asked.

"Yeah, _him_," said James with distaste. "Did you _see_ how greasy his hair was?" he asked Sirius. "I mean I know the Slytherins are an unfriendly lot, but I didn't know they had _poor hygiene_ too."

"Yeah, I thought he smelled funny," laughed Sirius. "Bet he hasn't bathed in weeks."

"The girl was very clean though, I think," said Remus, before he could stop himself. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his face grow hot.

James and Sirius both quirked an eyebrow at him, and then laughed. It was not, however, the laughter of ridicule—they were laughing with him, not at him.

"I s'pose she is rather _clean_," James chortled.

"Yeah, so what's she doing hanging out with dirty people like that _Snivellus_, eh?" Sirius wondered aloud. "For her sake, I hope she _doesn't _end up in Slytherin. It'd be a waste to see hair like _that_ get greasy."

Just then the witch with the snack trolley arrived at their compartment. James and Sirius—both of them being rather wealthy—loaded up on pumpkin pasties, cauldron cakes, licorice wands, Droobles' Best-Blowing Gum, Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans, and chocolate frogs, as well as any number of other assorted candies and sweets. Remus, on the other hand, being the son of a watchmaker, had very little money on him, and decided to just get one Chocolate Frog. Of all the candies and sweets in the world, chocolate was his one great weakness.

James now sat on the other side of the compartment with Sirius, so they could spread out their haul between them in one big pile. Then they dived in, without fussing over who bought which candy or sweet. As far as they were concerned, what belonged to one belonged to the other.

Remus however stayed on the side he'd been sitting on before, and curled up with his chocolate frog. He ate it and then tucked the card into his pocket.

Sirius saw him do it and asked, "Who'd you get?" as he tore off a huge bite of his licorice wand in a rather dog-like way.

"Lupus Beowulf," Remus sighed.

"Don't like him?" James asked.

"He's the one who was a werewolf, I think," said Sirius. "Isn't he?"

Remus pulled out the card and checked. "Yeah. It says it right here. 'Werewolf. Died while attempting to find a cure for lycanthropy.'"

"What's lycanthropy?" asked James.

"It's what a werewolf has," said Remus. "It's the condition they get when they're bitten."

"Must be a technical term," said Sirius.

"How do you know so much about werewolves?" James asked Remus.

Remus suddenly realized that he might have said too much, and was already giving the other two a great chance to work out his secret on their own. Quickly he said, "Er…I like reading up on defensive magic. I find it quite interesting. Especially since the dark arts are such a threat these days."

"I take it you don't like the dark arts much?" said James, raising his eyebrows as he opened a box of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavor Beans.

"Not to _use _them, no." Remus hesitated, and then thought perhaps he could brag just a little. "I've actually been working on a spell I made up—"

Sirius gagged on his licorice wand. "You _made up_ a spell?" he asked through watering eyes as he looked at Remus incredulously.

Remus shrugged modestly. "It was just something I came up with yesterday," he explained. "My dad had this poltergeist problem in his shop—he's a magical watchmaker—anyway, and I sort of worked out this spell for it."

"Neat," said James, clearly impressed.

"Ditto," said Sirius.

Remus felt positively elated by their reactions, and the color rose in his face as he smiled shyly again. He wasn't exactly the world's best bragger.

A brief lull fell among them, during which Remus looked over at the large pile of sweets between James and Sirius. James and Sirius did not fail to notice this. They did not however, demand to know why he hadn't got more for himself. Instead, they seemed to see that Remus couldn't have gotten more, much as he'd wanted to, because then James grinned and said, "Hey, Remus, these sweets aren't just for us two lovebirds over here."

"What?" said Remus, faintly crinkling his brow.

"Yeah," said Sirius, grinning as he caught James' eye for a split-second. "You can have some of it too. As much we'd like to think we _could_, I don't think just _us_ two could eat the whole lot."

Remus did not move. Why were they being so nice to him? Like he was…like he was…their friend…?

"C'mon, Remus, we don't bite," Sirius added laughingly.

Remus moved down to the floor so he could sit closer to them. "I didn't think you did," he said meekly, grabbing another chocolate frog from the pile. As he unwrapped it, he sat back with his legs crossed. "I just…."

"You just what?" asked James.

"I just…." Remus looked up at him and Sirius, who were beaming back, without a trace of loathing or suspicion in their eyes. He smiled his shy smile. "Thanks," he said softly.

"No problem," said James and Sirius simultaneously.

Then James added, "Can you believe they won't let us first-years try out for Quidditch? Or even let any of us have a broom?"

"You were thinking of trying out?" Sirius asked through a mouthful of his cauldron cake.

"Well…I couldn't have anyway," James admitted, "because I sort of…had an accident with my broom, and, er…I don't exactly have one anymore."

Sirius sniggered.

"Will your parents get you a new one?" Remus asked, remembering James asking for one from them back at King's Cross.

"They said, 'We'll see'," said James. He sounded doubtful.

"Parents," Sirius muttered, perhaps more to himself then to the other two. Then he said, "I love watching a good Quidditch game. I was at the World Cup last time Britain hosted it. Don't play it much myself, seeing as how the only kid I was ever allowed to play with was my stupid little brother, and I hate him. He's just as pure-blood obsessed as my parents are."

"Why were you only allowed to play with your brother?" Remus asked.

"Well, see, our house is right smack in the middle of Muggle London," Sirius explained. "Dunno why the Blacks decided to live there if they hated Muggles so much. They did everything to the house so that no Muggle could find it no matter what. I suppose they enjoyed the opportunity to play tricks on Muggles—you know: ones they could get away with, without the Ministry having something to say about it."

"What about you, Remus?" asked James. "You play Quidditch?"

Remus shook his head. "No. I like the game but…. Well I've never had anyone to play it with—I'm an only child and we live out in the country and…it wears me out."

"Wears you out?" Sirius asked.

"Athletics get me tired real easy," said Remus, which was in fact true. He didn't have to add that the reason was because of his monthly werewolf transformations. "I've got a broom though," he went on, "and I fly on it sometimes. But I'm not anything spectacular on it."

"So you've ridden on a broom before too?" asked Sirius. "I hear first-years take flying lessons."

"Yeah, it's actually my dad's old broom," said Remus, opening a box of Bertie Bott's. He now started going through the beans, trying to tell what flavor it might be without having to take the risk of tasting it. He was brave, but not _that _brave.

"Wish my dad had another old broom to give me," James said wistfully, helping himself to another pumpkin pasty. "At this point, I'd even settle for a Silver Arrow."

"A Silver Arrow?" said Sirius incredulously. "Those are ancient! They hardly even make them anymore!"

TAP-TAP-TAP!

"Is that an owl?" Remus asked.

"No, it's someone at the door," said James.

Sirius got up and slid the compartment door open to allow their visitor inside. Remus recognized them immediately for the short boy he'd seen back on the platform, complaining to his mother that he'd lost his Remembrall. It seemed that James recognized him too, because he said, "Hey, you're that little Peter Pettigrew!"

Peter, edging his way past Sirius, who was gazing down at him with a quirked eyebrow, jumped at James' words. "I am," he squeaked. "How did you know?"

"Heard your mum scolding you about something back at King's Cross," said James.

Sirius slid the compartment door shut and returned to sit with James and Remus.

"It's my Remembrall!" Peter exclaimed. The height of his anxiety might have suggested that he thought the sky was falling and they were all going to die. "Of all the things I've lost, I've never lost anything so _important_! I'll never remember anything! I'll fail at Hogwarts my first day!" He looked wildly from James, to Sirius, and then to Remus. "None of you have seen it, have you?"

"I haven't seen one," said James.

"No Remembralls where I've been," said Sirius.

"Sorry, me neither," said Remus, shaking his head.

"Oooh!" Peter seemed quite agitated. He dropped to his hands and knees and began combing the floor for his lost Remembrall. "What if I dropped it into an Invisible Void?"

Sirius laughed a laugh that reminded Remus of a dog's bark. "Not likely, is it? Invisible Voids are rare."

"They move around though," Peter pointed out, checking under the seats on the other side of the compartment.

"Well, everything that falls into an Invisible Void comes back out somewhere else at the other end," said Remus.

"But that could be _miles_ from here!" Peter whimpered. He sat up on his knees and looked helplessly at the other three. "Please, help me look! My life depends on that Remembrall!"

Remus saw Sirius roll his eyes.

POP!

"Oy!" said James as all four of them looked up at the ceiling.

The others barely had any time to realize what was happening, before James snatched something out of the air seemingly with no more effort than plucking an apple from a tree. In his hand, he held out Peter's lost Remembrall for the others to see. Peter clapped excitedly, repeating "Thank you" to James in an almost groveling manner. And he was also—like Remus and Sirius—aghast at what James had just been able to do.

Noticing their gaping mouths, James said with a rather conceited grin, "Oh, didn't I tell you? That's my Quidditch position: I'm always the Seeker."

"That was amazing!" Peter cried through grateful tears. "How did you do that? You made it look so _easy_."

James handed the overjoyed Peter his Remembrall, not bothering to conceal his own pride. "Talent runs in the family."

"No kidding," said Sirius.

They decided to let Peter have the left-over sweets, seeing as they'd already had their fill. But that fill soon wore off as they reached the castle of Hogwarts. They had just changed into their new school robes when they saw everyone else herding themselves off the train. Quickly they followed, and queued up with the other first-years at the beckoning of a booming voice whose owner towered over them all with a big lantern in his hand. It was none other than Rubeus Hagrid, the Hogwarts gamekeeper.

"Firs' years!" he cried. "Firs' years! Over here!"

"He's so tall," said Peter fearfully.

"He must have giant's blood in him," said Remus with eager interest. As he stood with James and Sirius (while Peter followed close behind them), he noticed Lily and Severus join the queue out of the corner of his eye. They, however, did not notice him back, for which, he supposed, he ought to be thankful.

At the lakeshore, Remus got into a boat with James and Sirius, and Peter hopped in behind him, anxiously clutching his Remembrall to his chest.

All of them—Remus, James, Sirius, Lily, Severus, and Peter—made that walk up the great stone steps and through the giant oak front doors. They were greeted by Professor Minerva McGonagall, who took them on from there, leading them into the entrance hall. As the doors closed behind them thunderously, there was a great echoing cackle coming from Peeves the Poltergeist. He zoomed over the first-years, bombarding their heads with buttons.

"Ouch!" Lily exclaimed as a big red button grazed her ear. She rubbed it furiously.

"I'll take care of him," said Severus. He pulled out his wand, but McGonagall noticed him with her keen-as-a-hawk's eyes.

"Wands away!" she reprimanded.

Severus stared at her as though she'd smacked him then stuffed his wand back in his robes, looking sullen.

"Lucky McGonagall was here to save you from making a dire mistake, Snivellus," said James when McGonagall was out of earshot. "You might've blasted your eye out."

Sirius sniggered but Remus was more preoccupied with Lily's fierce glaring.

"Hey, Remus," James whispered. "Didn't you say you'd made up a spell to deal with things like poltergeists?"

Remus glanced at Peeves now pelting buttons at a knot of squealing girls a little ways ahead of them in the queue. "Yeah, I did," he whispered back to James and Sirius. "I'll show you later though."

"First-years, follow me, please," said Professor McGonagall. She led them into the Great Hall.

Remus was spellbound by the ceiling and the floating candles, but when he saw all of the older students watching the first-years as they sat at tables determined by which House they were in, he swallowed. He stood with James, Sirius, and Peter as they all gathered at the front of the hall. He saw the teachers sitting at the High Table—Professor Dumbledore among them. Professor McGonagall brought out a stool and the Sorting Hat and placed it before the students. After the Sorting Hat sang its song, she unrolled a large scroll of parchment, and cleared her throat.

"Abbot, Wesley!" she called.

And so it began.

"How does it work, this spell?" Sirius asked Remus as the Sorting continued.

"Well, he has to have a wad of something," Remus explained to him and James. "So, actually, you can use it on anyone or anything, as long as they've got a wad of something. But I highly recommend using it on poltergeists, only because it's actually effective on them. At least…in my experience it was."

"Black, Sirius!"

Sirius looked around at his name. His confidence seemed slightly humbled as he approached the Sorting Hat.

After a few minutes, the Sorting Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Sirius was so elated that as he ripped off the Sorting Hat he jumped up from the stool and exclaimed, "Ha! Take _that_, Mum!" and jogged over to the cheering Gryffindor table, not caring that the other three Houses were laughing at him.

Remus and James were laughing too, but only because they knew that Sirius wanted to do something like that more than anything.

"Knew he was all right," said James.

"I don't know why you'd want to be in Slytherin," Remus heard Lily whisper to Severus. "Look at them all. Do they always scowl like that? They don't seem very friendly. Not like you."

"I think they're exactly Snivellus' type," said James, but low enough so that only Remus could hear.

"I'm not so sure about that," said Remus. "I do know that Lily is not they're type though."

"What makes you say that?"

"She's Muggle-born, I think. Slytherin rarely lets them in, they won't stand for it. They're too exclusively pure-blood."  


"Good point, mate."

"Evans, Lily!"

They watched Lily approach the Sorting Hat with trembling legs and sit on the stool. Remus found himself crossing his fingers behind his back. But they didn't have long to wait: the Hat had barely touched her head, when it cried, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus sighed with relief, and he felt James do the same thing, but decided not to comment on it.

James, however, said, "Look at Snivellus!"

Remus glanced at Severus and saw wistfulness in his eyes as they followed Lily to the Gryffindor table. Then he remembered something from listening to Severus and his mother back at King's Cross: if he wasn't mistaken, Severus' father was a Muggle, which would make Severus a half-blood. Surely there was no way he'd end up in Slytherin either…not unless he had something that would give Slytherin cause to overlook that…because Slytherin did not just look for pure-bloods, otherwise every pure-blood at Hogwarts would be a Slytherin, and he knew that wasn't true…. Sirius' being made a Gryffindor proved that if anything….

"Lupin, Remus!"

Remus felt James nudge him forward with a whispered, "Go on." He walked up the steps, feeling everyone's gazes on him. He felt the staff's gazes on him. He felt Dumbledore's gaze on him. He wondered if he was thinking: _So, this is the little werewolf who's come to school this year…. _

The Hat was so big it fell over Remus' eyes as McGonagall placed it on his head. It wasn't long before he heard a voice in his ear.

"Well, well…what have we here? _Werewolf_, are you? Hmmm. Never had a student infected with lycanthropy before. This could be rather difficult…. You've a clever mind; very clever indeed…perhaps Ravenclaw would best suit you…. But wait…I see bravery here…well, anyone who's gotten bit by a werewolf has to have some stamina…not many people brave the full moon as a rule, don't wanna give the bloodthirsty killers a chance…but I suppose you felt you had nothing to fear…. Yet I sense fear now…and a will to prove yourself to be just as good a wizard as any other despite your little secret…. Well, you're far too unique a case for Hufflepuff, though I've been known to sort a rare Metamorphamagus in...and besides that, you're positively brimming with a nobility that Helga herself would have been proud off... But Slytherin is right out...you'd never make friends there...and that's what you want, isn't it? Anyway, you don't fit the type…no, no…. You're cunning, but there's far too much of that nobility here... There is a solid loyalty here, as well…and a sense of selflessness…. Well, while you've an extremely bright mind, I quite think you'd be better suited to GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus felt so relieved the adrenaline made him tremble slightly as he got off the stool to join Sirius and the other cheering Gryffindors. At the table, he sat down across from Sirius, who said to him, "This is excellent."

"Too bad I couldn't make a memorable exit like you did," said Remus, raising his eyebrows.  


"Well…I'm a bit of a dramatic," said Sirius rather playfully.

Remus noticed Lily sitting beside Sirius, but she had her back to him and her arms folded, so all he could really see of her was the back of her long dark red hair.

"Pettigrew, Peter!"

As McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on Peter's head, Sirius whispered, "Bet he ends up in Hufflepuff, poor bloke."

To their surprise, however, the Sorting Hat cried, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Peter nearly tripped on his way to the table, but Remus was nice enough to make room for him so that he sat directly across from Lily.

"Potter, James!"

Remus and Sirius both crossed their fingers.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Remus, Sirius, and Peter were the loudest clappers at the Gryffindor table as James sat down on the other side of Sirius, directly across from Remus, his face beaming. Lily in the meantime rolled her eyes in dislike.

Severus was one of the last ones to be sorted. It didn't take the Sorting Hat very long to come to a decision. After a few minutes it cried, "SLYTHERIN!"

Lily gave a moan while James and Sirius sniggered.

"Told you he was Slytherin's type," James said to Remus.

Lily glared at him and Sirius over her shoulder. She avoided talking to any of them during the feast, but Remus found he didn't really care, because he was too filled with happiness anyway. As he tucked into his plate of food, and laughed with James and Sirius, who laughed with him in turn, he felt something he certainly had not dreamed that he would be feeling when he woke up this morning: the feeling that he belonged, that he was not an outcast or a freak or a monster, but a normal kid like everyone else around him.


	4. The Furry Little Problem

**Chapter Four**  
**  
****The Furry Little Problem**

"Potter! Black! Lupin!" Professor Sprout snapped during herbology.

Remus, James, and Sirius all looked up at the sound of their names. James had just been telling Remus and Sirius about his Invisibility Cloak, which had once belonged to his father, even though they were supposed to be paying attention to their first herbology lesson. Peter had been listening intently as well, but as he hadn't been able to get a word in edgewise, he hadn't been caught whispering while Professor Sprout had been talking.

"Unless you want to end up in the hospital wing covered in burns from this nasty phloxseed bush," Professor Sprout reprimanded, "it would behoove you to be quiet and pay attention. Five points from Gryffindor."

The Slytherins, with whom Gryffindor had herbology that year, sniggered.

Lily rolled her eyes, just as she always did when Remus, James, and Sirius were making mischief.

"Now," Sprout continued to the class at large, "I am going to put you all into pairs, and these will be your pairs for the remainder of the year. Today, your jobs are to deal with these phloxseed bushes. They're in dreadful need of pruning. Now, how exactly do you do that? Well, I'll show you…."

When she'd given the instructions, Professor Sprout delegated the pairs, most of which were what people were alright with, but a few she made to prevent any further loss of focus. This meant splitting up the trio of James, Sirius, and Remus. So, she put James with Severus (both were not the least bit delighted about this), Sirius with Peter, and Remus with Lily.

Remus couldn't understand it, but as he moved over to sit with Lily at their phloxseed bush, his palms became rather sweaty.

"Everyone set to work now!" said Professor Sprout.

As soon as everyone dived into work, Lily rounded on Remus with a suddenness that nearly knocked him off of his stool.

"Let's get one thing straight here, Lupin," she said firmly, "you and I are stuck with each other for the rest of the year, so let's talk only when necessary, so as not to get a bad grade, alright?" She held out her hand for him to shake it.

Remus felt weird shaking her hand, and hoped she didn't notice how sweaty his palms were. As he did, however, he asked, "Erm…sorry, but did I do something wrong to you?"

"You hang around with that Potter and his mate Black," said Lily as she passed him his pair of gloves. "What more is there to say?"

"That's a little judgmental," said Remus, raising his eyebrows as he accepted his gloves from her, "considering you don't even know me. Or James and Sirius, for that matter."

"All they do is pick on people," said Lily, "and think they're better than everyone else."  


"_I_ don't think I'm better than everyone else," said Remus as he passed Lily her pair of flame-resistant pruning shears.

"Well…you're just as clever as they are," she argued, accepting her pair of shears from him. "You're _clever_ enough to be just as snotty as they are."

"But I'm _not_," said Remus quietly. "You don't ever _see_ me act snotty, do you?"

"Well…no, but…why would you want to be friends with big-headed idiots like them anyway?"

"So they're already big-headed idiots to you now, are they? Only after two days at Hogwarts?"

"Oh please. Have you seen the way they strut about the corridors?"

"No. They walk just like me. Like everybody else." Remus paused to glance at James and Severus, who both looked like they were about to slice each other to ribbons with their pruning shears. "I think you talk to that Severus Snape too much."

"He's my friend!" Lily hissed. "My _best_ friend!"

Remus held up his hands defensively.

Lily blinked at him, slightly taken aback; clearly she'd been expecting him to argue with her.

"I'm sure you are," said Remus. "What I'm trying to point out, however, is that while you're attacking _me_ about the friends I choose, I wondered if you had at all noticed the new friends your _best friend_ is making in Slytherin?"

"Severus isn't making friends there," said Lily, but she paused in her pruning. "He told me. He told me he didn't have anybody, and felt so lonely without me."

"Do you know Lucius Malfoy?" asked Remus. "He's a Slytherin prefect."

"So?"

"_So_, I've noticed that he's sort of taken your mate Severus 'under his wing'. And not in what you might believe is a _good_ way either. I don't s'pose you've _heard_ the rumors about what Lucius and _his_ lot do for fun?"

"Well…er…I've heard _some_…."

Remus started picking up where she left off in her pruning. "I'm not asking you to believe me. I just wish that you and I could be on better terms, so that our time in herbology isn't something we both dread."

"You're actually a rather nice person," said Lily, helping Remus continue to prune.

"Thanks."

"Why do you hang out with toerags like Potter and Black, then?"  


It was Remus' turn to pause while pruning. "Well…." He hesitated. "I've never had friends before, and well…they're the first people to ever be just…nice to me. Unconditionally." He went back to pruning.

"I see," said Lily.

They did not say anything except what was necessary for the rest of the lesson—however, this time there were no hard feelings between them, but rather more of a bond of confidentiality. It was like they were two beings from entirely different worlds, and then every herbology lesson they met and while they worked they discussed the issues facing them in their separate worlds, which sometimes collided beyond herbology (like if James had hexed Severus for the umpteenth time). But no matter what happened, while Lily still glared at James and Sirius whenever possible, she at least saved a fleeting, soft glance for Remus. Even when near the end of that first herbology lesson, James made Severus prune in the wrong spot so that a jet of flames burst from their phloxseed bush and scorched the length of Severus' forearm.

* * *

Peter Pettigrew tagged along with Remus, James, and Sirius everywhere, and while Sirius was the one who found it the most annoying, James liked to think of Peter as a sort of groupie. Indeed, as the weeks in September went by, James, Sirius, and Remus had all proved to be exceptionally clever (many people wondered why they hadn't all been put in Ravenclaw, and only Remus admitted that the Sorting Hat had considered putting him there—it was the closest Remus came to anything short of bragging), and Peter loved basking in their glory, especially in James and Sirius', since they actually went around boasting about it, while Remus stood beside them, shyly.

Once they met Peeves the Poltergeist in the corridors when no one else was around. He was sticking a wad of chewing gum into the keyhole to a broom cupboard, which would leave Filch unable to unlock it to get to his brooms.

"Oh, excellent," said Remus mischievously. "Now I can show you that spell I made up."

"Oh, yeah," said James. He and Sirius looked eager, while Peter looked confused.

Remus cleared his throat, pointed his wand, and cried, "_Waddiwasi_!"

The wad of chewing gum flew out of the keyhole and shot into Peeves' left nostril. Bristling, the poltergeist zoomed away down the corridor as he shouted all manners of swearwords.

"Oh, what do you know? It worked," said Remus, grinning as he stowed his wand back in his robes.

"That was excellent, mate," said Sirius, clapping Remus on the shoulder.

"I'll have to try that on Snivellus sometime," said James.

Peter was clapping and whooping excitedly. "That was so cool!"

"Oh, look at that, Sirius," said James as he observed Peter's praising. "How can you get rid of a rabid fan like that, eh? Can't we just keep him?"

"Yeah, I guess," said Sirius, rolling his eyes.

"James, he's not a dog," said Remus with a laugh as he and Sirius started heading on their way down the corridor.

"I know," said James. "C'mon, Peter," he added fondly to Peter. "Best of friends stick together, right?"

* * *

On the day of the September full moon, Remus was to be at the hospital wing at 5:00pm sharp. Madam Pomfrey would then lead him down to the Whomping Willow that Dumbledore had had planted a week before school started specifically for the purpose of keeping Remus and others safe during Remus' monthly transformations. His instructions were to let Madam Pomfrey lead him down to the Willow, where she would then touch the knot on it that froze its wildly waving, threatening branches, and then descend into the tunnel that opened at the roots. Madam Pomfrey would unfreeze the knot after he'd gone, while he took the secret tunnel that led all the way from the Whomping Willow to an empty house built on a lonely hill on the edge of Hogsmeade village. There, inside the house, he would be able to transform, without anyone seeing or becoming endangered by him in his werewolf state. He would remain there until morning, when Madam Pomfrey would return to the Willow, travel down the tunnel herself, and bring him back up through the tunnel to the castle, where he would need to remain in the hospital wing for the rest of the day to regain his strength and health.

So, at a quarter to five that afternoon, it wasn't surprising that Remus could not concentrate on his homework and submitted to staring listlessly out of the window in the Gryffindor common room, hugging his knees as he sat on the window seat.

"Something up, Remus?" Sirius asked from the table nearby where the four of them had been writing their latest potions essay.

"W-What?" said Remus, shaking his head as he looked around at the other three gazing at him concernedly.

"Yeah, we don't hear your quill scratching incessantly," said James, sticking his own back in his bottle of ink.

"He's stopped working altogether," Peter chimed in.

"That's not like you, Remus," said James laughingly.

Remus smiled feebly. "I'm alright," he said softly.

"You sure, mate?" Sirius asked, standing up and walking over to Remus and sitting beside him on the window seat. "You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," Remus insisted.

"I thought you looked bad from where I was _sitting_," said Sirius. "But you look _worse_ up close."

"Maybe I'll go to the hospital wing then," said Remus, noting the time. He had seized the perfect opportunity to make his departure. He hopped down from the window seat, gathered up his school things, and took them up to his bed. He then reappeared and did not chance a glance over his shoulder to see if the others were watching him as he climbed through the portrait hole.

"Ah, there you are, Mister Lupin," said Madam Pomfrey pleasantly when he arrived at the hospital wing, though she sounded slightly nervous as well.

Remus was not at all surprised. He accompanied her down to the grounds, and stopped short at the sight of the immense Whomping Willow. How they'd managed to plant something that huge without having it hit anyone was beyond him.

He watched Madam Pomfrey expertly dodge the branches as they began to set themselves upon her, and as soon as she'd prodded the knot on the tree, the branches froze.

"Right then," she said as she climbed out from the immobilized branches in mid-attack. "Off you go then."

Remus stepped through the frozen branches and descended into the dark tunnel. Behind him he vaguely heard Madam Pomfrey unfreeze the tree. He heard his own heart thudding in his chest as he made the long walk to the other end. This darkness could not compare to the darkness he would shortly be facing. When he emerged into the abandoned house at the other end of the tunnel, he closed the trapdoor in the floor out of which he'd just come. The house itself, he was told, was just made to look old: it was actually built at the same time the Whomping Willow was planted, at the same time the tunnel that connected them was dug out.

The windows, however, were boarded up, with only slits in between the slats of wood to allow light through. After Remus had stripped himself down completely, and set his clothes down folded neatly in the tunnel for Madam Pomfrey to find in the morning, he peered through one of these slits at a window in the foyer, to see the faint glow of a full moon rising over the mountains. Remus heard his own breathing louder than ever as he watched the top of that silvery celestial orb poke out from the summit, and as the full moon rose higher and higher, the image of its circular shape more and more complete as the light hit his eyes...

The roaring sounded deafeningly in his ears like a fierce howling wind rushing past him. He became rigid, and his limbs began to shake uncontrollably. The pain erupted in the pit of his stomach—that was where it always started—and he bent double as it continued to spread rapidly throughout the rest of his body, giving him the terribly agonizing sensation that every atom of his being was being violently and mercilessly ripped apart. He gave strangled screams and yells, falling to his knees and convulsing on the floor like he were having a great seizure. Bones shattered and reformed themselves, and muscles rent themselves and then sewed themselves up again, and skin stretched, as his entire body shape changed into that of what looked like a regular wolf, only it was slightly larger with a hunched back. This was where the pain reached its peak—when his spine forced itself into the hunched shape with a sickening crack—and this was where Remus lost his mind to the darkness, which only seemed to last for a second before he suddenly regained it again, slowly, as a dull ache pulsed through his body.

He opened his eyes to see James, Sirius, and Peter surrounding him as he lay in a bed in the hospital wing.

"Hey, he's coming around," said Peter excitedly.

"We can see that, Peter," said Sirius rather irritably.

"I guess you really _were_ ill," said James. "You look awful."

"That's how I feel," Remus whispered hoarsely.

"Where'd all the scratches and stuff come from?" Peter asked.

"What?" Remus managed to raise his hand—though it felt very heavy—and examined it languidly to see a huge scratch running across the back of it.

But at that very moment, Madam Pomfrey saved him the trouble of explaining—perhaps deliberately—by coming over with some more medicine to administer to him, and shooed James, Sirius, and Peter away.

"Go on!" she ordered. "You'll see him again tonight when I release him. Go on, go on!"

James, Sirius, and Peter left the ward, giving Remus worried backward glances as they disappeared through the door.

When they were gone, Remus asked Madam Pomfrey about the scratches, more of which could found on his arms and legs.

"I would deduce," said Madam Pomfrey as Remus knocked back the horribly tasting potion she was now administering to him, "that these scratches and bites—"

Remus spit out his potion. "Bites?" he sputtered. "From what?"

"From yourself," Madam Pomfrey explained, pouring more potion. "You see, unable to scratch and bite anything else because you were cooped up in that house, I believe you—you being you in your lycanthropic state—resorted to biting and scratching yourself."

Remus gulped. "Maybe I shouldn't be confined to the house, then?" he suggested while Madam Pomfrey gave him a fresh dosage of potion.

"I've already spoken to Professor Dumbledore," said Madam Pomfrey, watching him knock back the medicine. "He said it won't become life-threatening. You may, however, develop some scarring, but that is about all."

Remus gulped the potion. "Scarring?"

"Believe me, Professor Dumbledore isn't keen on it either, but he's even less keen on simply turning you loose when you transform. What if you were lost or killed?"

Remus had to admit she had a point, but he said nothing.

* * *

And thus was the routine on the full moon of every month following. As for escaping from his friends to the hospital wing, he made up all sorts of stories: that his mother was ill and he had to leave the school for a day to see her, for instance. The bites and scratches worsened, and while some healed and disappeared from his skin, others remained as scars, and from then on Remus swore that he would never again wear another short-sleeved shirt or pair of shorts as long as he lived.

Despite his struggle with recovering from the full moon, he was quite able to catch up with his missed classes quickly. In his view, he ought to be proud of himself for this, and so he was. In his first herbology lesson following the full moon there would always be a concerned Lily asking about where he'd been, and he'd feed her the same story he'd fed his friends: that he'd been ill, or his mother had, or something like that. He was relieved that Lily never spoke to James, Sirius, and Peter, because sometimes he wondered if he ever fed each party two different stories for the same full moon.

He also couldn't stand this lying. He knew he should be honest, but he was afraid his friends would abandon him the moment they learned the truth. Nobody wants to be in any way associated with a half-breed mutant monster. He hated lying to Lily too. He was afraid if she learned he'd been lying, she'd not only be scared away by his being werewolf, but also turn cold because he'd lied to her. And he was afraid James, Sirius, and Peter would also turn cold for that reason.

One day in January of the New Year, Remus was returning to the dormitories after his monthly stay in the hospital wing, and he was about to open the dormitory door, when he noticed that it was slightly ajar, and that he could hear the voices of James, Sirius, and Peter within. Curious to know a little bit about what they talked about in his absence, he listened.

"…be students at Hogwarts?" Peter's voice said anxiously. "They're so dangerous."

"Only once a month, Peter," said Sirius' voice rather exasperatedly. "And Dumbledore's the trusting sort. He'd be willing to give it a try. But why didn't Remus tell us in the first place?"

"Probably scared he'd scare us off," James' voice supposed sagely. "And I wouldn't blame him. But, really…we're getting ahead of ourselves here. We're not even sure he really is—"

"Come on, James," Sirius' voice argued. "He goes away once every month, around the same _time_ every month—"

"But has every time he's been gone been _exactly_ during the full moon?"

"I dunno. I wasn't always paying attention."

"Neither was I. What about you, Peter?"

"No."

"See?"

"Well…alright, but…can we not discuss this now? Remus might come in at any minute. He told us before he left he'd be back about this time…."

Remus let out a silent sigh of relief. For now they weren't positive of what was the truth. 

However, they would get closer to it. He was certain that from now they'd start checking to see if the day he left them each month happened to also be the day of the full moon.

* * *

February came and went, as did March and April. But never again did Remus overhear his friends discussing their theory of his being a werewolf. Perhaps they had discarded the possibility.

One rainy afternoon in April, Remus was returning to the Gryffindor common room after full moon and he came in from the portrait hole to find James, Sirius, and Peter all snoring as they slept soundly over their homework. He shook his head, but he was smiling. He crossed over to them, and was about to wake them up when he noticed a very large book that James was now using as a pillow. It was the title of the book that caught Remus' interest: _Animagi_.

James snorted and woke up, yawning hugely. "Oh, hey, Remus. Back already?"

"I guess so, seeing as I'm here," said Remus. "What're you reading about Animagi for?"

James blinked at him then glanced down at the book under his arms. "Oh. This?" he said innocently, stowing it in his bag. "Bit of light reading. That's all."

Remus quirked an eyebrow but decided not to argue the point and took a seat beside Sirius at the table.

"Wake up," James said, nudging Sirius. "Remus is back."

"Remus?" Sirius looked about. "Oh," he said when he found Remus sitting next to him. "There you are. How's your mum?"

"She's doing better," said Remus. Oh how he hated lying.

"Oy, Peter, look lively," said Sirius, giving Peter a kick in the shin from across the table.

"Ouch!" Peter exclaimed as he sat up straight and clutched his shin.

"Sirius, why do you have to pick on Pete so much?" James asked. "It's not like he's Snivellus."

"Alright, I'm sorry about that Pete," said Sirius. "Really, I am. I guess it comes from being the older brother of a git I loathe from the very bottom of my heart and soul."

* * *

"How is your mother doing?" Lily asked Remus the next day during herbology.

"Oh, er…fine." Remus looked at her. To lie to those emerald green eyes was just as awful as lying to James, Sirius, and Peter. He always tried to make sure he never told more lies than he had to, so he never expanded on the details of his monthly disappearances, unless he was asked to.

"It isn't…bad, is it?"  


"What? Oh, no. No, it's nothing bad. Nothing serious. Why do you ask?"

"You just look awfully worried. You always come back from a visit to her looking ill. I mean I know _you_ also sometimes go away because _you're_ the one who's ill but…. Have you and she always had these illnesses?"

Remus thought a moment, and came up with something that he knew was at least a half-truth, and this made him feel slightly better about himself. "No, my mother got it just when I'd started school, and me well…I've had mine since I was seven." And that was entirely true! Sure, he hadn't told her that his illness was lycanthropy, and as his for his mother, from what he'd read in letters from home, she did get headaches from time to time caused by her maternal anxiety for him— so then maybe he was lying by omission.

He glanced at Lily, and felt even worse about himself instead of any better, because he saw her pretty features etched with a concern he felt he did not deserve. When they parted after herbology, he joined James, Sirius, and Peter for lunch. Then, after transfiguration and potions, they returned to the Gryffindor common room, where they did homework and studied until dinnertime.

Remus was writing the last line of his essay for astronomy before packing up and following everyone else to the Great Hall, when he heard James say, "Remus: Sirius, Peter, and I would like a word with you." He sounded rather like a juvenile teacher when he said it. Remus looked up at James sitting in a squashy armchair by the fireplace with his astronomy book. He did not like the grin on James' face as he said, "We'll wait until everyone else leaves."

Remus looked around questioningly at Sirius and Peter: Sirius was mirroring James (but then wasn't he nearly always, and vice versa?), but Peter looked positively anxious.

He glanced over his shoulder, and saw Lily was the last one leaving the common room to go to dinner. He caught her eye, and she gave him a rather shy smile before disappearing through the portrait hole.

He turned back to the other three.

"So, Remus," said James, closing his book. "Sirius, Peter, and I have worked out the secret of your…furry little problem."

Remus' heart sank as the blood drained from his already pale face. He sighed and laid down his quill beside his essay. "I should've known this was coming."

"You're bloody well right," said Sirius. "Why didn't you tell us?" His tone was reprimanding, but there was also amusement in it.

Remus didn't understand. Shaking his head, he said, "I thought if I told you, you'd all…abandon me, you know? Who wants to be friends with a—with something like me?"

"You mean a werewolf?" asked Peter.

"Of course that's what he means," said Sirius exasperatedly.

"You can't have met many kids who've wanted to be your friend once they found out what you are then, have you?" James suggested shrewdly, raising an eyebrow.

"No," Remus admitted, lowering his gaze.

"Well, I think they were all barking mad!" James laughed.

Remus lifted his eyes, amazed. "What?" he croaked, looking from James, to Peter, and then to Sirius.

"Yeah," said Sirius. "I think this is totally cool. I mean—you're a werewolf!"

"Miss you during full moon though," said James wistfully.

"Yeah, wish we could tag along," said Sirius in the same wistful timbre.

Remus laughed. "Don't be thick. It's way too dangerous. I'm not myself as a werewolf. I lose control of everything. The monster takes over, but…I'd never forgive myself if I killed one of you in my werewolf state…or bit one of you..._any_ of you…."

Peter nodded vigorously, as if agreeing.

Sirius and James however exchanged fleeting glances, their impish grins widening.

"Yes, it _is_ way too dangerous," said James.

"For us as _humans_, anyway," said Sirius.

Peter groaned.

"What's this all about?" Remus asked warily.

James stuck his astronomy book back in his bag and pulled out a different one: _Animagi_.

Remus couldn't help but grin impishly himself. "A bit of light reading, huh?" he said. His grin faded as the truth of what they were planning to attempt sank in. "You're not really going to try and do it, are you? I mean you're clever and all, but…becoming an _Animagus_…?"

"Yeah, it'll be a while," said Sirius, his expression turning humorless.

James' had done so as well. "We reckon we can get it by about fifth or sixth year though."

Remus shook his head. "Why are you doing this? You shouldn't be trying to figure out how to be with me during my most dangerous time; you should be backing up against the wall now, threatening to hex me if I come near you!"

Peter's hand flinched, as if he were about to go for his wand and do just what Remus had said they should do. But Sirius flashed him a warning glance and stopped Peter in his tracks.

"Friends have got to stick together, right, mate?" said James fondly.

Remus smiled sheepishly.

"What's it like?" Sirius asked. "Being a werewolf?"

Remus stopped smiling and looked up at them. "Terrible," he said darkly. He lifted himself off his stomach and sat up, hugging his knees. "It's painful the moment the moonlight hits my eyes, but when it rises, I'm drawn to it, in a trance-like sort of way. I can't help but look at its light. Half-way through my mind goes dark. Like I'm unconscious. So, next thing I know it's morning and I'm human again. I can only _guess_ what I've done as a werewolf. Sometimes I wake up with blood on my lips and hands, and that usually means I probably slaughtered something. If I feel full as well, that means I probably ate it. Or, like those bites and scratches. I had no idea they were there. They were just there all of a sudden when I woke up, and only after I talked to Madam Pomfrey did I learn that they'd come from biting and scratching myself, because I'd been confined in that house Dumbledore built to keep me in during my transformations."

"You mean that house people are saying is haunted?" Peter asked. "The place they've been calling the Shrieking Shack?"

Remus nodded.

Peter gasped. "Blimey! We've forgotten about dinner!"

"Don't worry," said James. "We can all nick something from the kitchens later. We'll use my Invisibility Cloak."

There was a moment of silence, which Remus broke by saying, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. It's just…I didn't want to lose the first friends I'd ever had. I swear I've got nothing else to hide from you."

"Don't sweat it," said Sirius. "If anything, I'm doing more of everything my dear mother always told me not to as a little boy. And that's just fine with me."

Despite the fact that Remus felt quite unworthy of their friendship because of how he'd lied and all, he could not help but smile and gleefully rejoice in his good fortune in having made such accepting and loyal friends.

* * *

"Lily! Hey, Lily!"

Lily looked around and seemed surprised to see Remus running after her down the corridor.

"What do _you_ want, Lupin?" Severus demanded with a scowl.

"Sev!" Lily scolded.

When Remus reached them he waited to catch his breath. Then he straightened up, ignoring Severus completely as he spoke to Lily. "Can we talk? Now? Alone? In private?" Without realizing it he'd taken her hand in his while he was talking.

"Of course we can, Remus," said Lily.

"What?" Severus squawked indignantly.

"It'll only be a minute," said Lily. "It's just about herbology, right Remus?"

Remus nodded. "She and I are partners in that class."

"I know that," Severus argued. "But—"

"Just go on to breakfast without me," Lily called over her shoulder as Remus started to lead her away by his hand still joined with hers. "I promise I'll only be a minute!"

Remus did not relinquish his hold on her hand until he'd led her to a deserted corridor, where he turned to face her. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Lily, I have to tell you something."

"Well, what is it?" Lily asked, peering anxiously at Remus.

"There's something about me that I haven't told you the truth about."

"What?"

"I'm a werewolf," Remus said without further preamble.

Lily blinked. She stammered incoherently a moment, seeming not to know whether or not she should laugh.

"It's why I'm gone once every month," Remus went on quickly. "If you'd notice, you'd see I'm always gone at the full moon. So…my mother isn't ill but…well…." He chuckled nervously. "I guess _I'm _ill. Not unless you count her anxiety headaches. But I was—"

"You lied to me?" Lily finally sputtered. "_You_? You _lied_…?"

"Just about this," Remus said, fearful of the anger and hurt he saw in Lily's green eyes. "Please. I was scared—nobody knew—" He hesitated, and then desperately he blurted out, "Werewolves don't make friends very easily, you know!"

Lily took a step back at his unexpected ferocity. Then she gazed deep into his eyes.

Remus felt the heat rise in his face.

And then, to his intense relief, she smiled. "Oh, Remus…."

"Are we cool then?" Remus asked her.

Lily lowered her gaze, still smiling. "Yes. Yes, of course we are." She glanced back up at him, her green eyes kind. "Well, I'd better get some breakfast. I'm sure Sev's anxiously watching the Gryffindor table." She turned on her heel, her dark, fiery red hair flashing briefly before Remus' eyes.

"Lily?" Remus called after her.

"Yeah?" Lily asked, spinning around to face him, but walking backwards as she continued down the corridor.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone about my—my problem," Remus said earnestly, half-aware that his feet were carrying him towards her, following her. "Not even Severus. Please."

Lily stopped.

Remus stopped too.

Lily continued to smile her utterly radiant smile. "I promise you, I won't. Not even Severus." She turned and disappeared from the corridor. Then her head poked back out from around the corner. "You know, Remus," she said, her smile suddenly somewhat playful, "one reason I'm willing to make a promise to you like this is because unlike _your _best friends, you're at least nice enough not to make fun of _my _best friend's name." She disappeared again, leaving Remus temporarily stunned.

* * *

Ted snored softly as he slept on his bed, still fully dressed in the clothes he'd worn that day. He lay on his back, with one hand at his side, while the other was at his chest. It held to it the next journal in the series—the one labeled "1972" on the spine—face open. His head was turned to the side, opposite the picture of his parents on his bedside table.

In his sleep he twitched. His nose had suddenly started prickling with that pins and needles feeling one gets when their leg or foot falls asleep. He sneezed and bolted awake, sitting straight up in bed, the journal falling to his lap. He was breathing hard as if he'd been running for miles and then stopped.

His nose continued to prickle.

And it made him sneeze again. He looked about his dark bedroom and saw that it was night. His clock read 2:32am. He got up and crossed to his window, where his box of tissues sat on his desk. On the way, however, his foot caught on the foot of his wardrobe and he toppled forward and hit the floor on his hands and knees. Yet another reason why he couldn't believe someone like Victoire would fancy him: except when he was on a broom, Ted was a bit accident prone due to an unfortunate characteristic of klutziness. According to Harry, he'd inherited it from his mother.

Cursing under his breath at the pain in his hands and knees caused by the hard contact with the wood flooring, he got to his feet and plucked a tissue from the tissue box. He blew his nose, noticing the prickling only grew more intense.

He also noticed movement in the darkness outside. Or was the night playing tricks on him?

He wished he could shed some light on the shadows below. Whatever was out there wished to remain out of the light of the lit lamppost across the South London street. And although he couldn't see it because of the town's lights, the moon in the sky was a waxing crescent. He knew this from the lunar poster on his bedroom wall. And while he thought of it, the shadow in the shadows fled into the even deeper obscurities behind a large dustbin near the lamppost. As it disappeared, the prickling in his nose lessened gradually until at last it was gone completely.

He rubbed his nose absently for a moment, and then crawled back into bed.


	5. Animagi

**Chapter Five**

**Animagi**

Ted continued reading his father's journals for the remainder of the Easter holidays. He was halfway through "1975" when he finally stopped to pack up his trunks to leave for his return to Hogwarts the following day. The last thing he packed was the ANSWERS box, which he transfigured into the gold Gobstone and stuck in a small pocket on his bag, along with his father's watch, and a map Harry had given him for his twelfth birthday—a map of Hogwarts called the Marauder's Map, which showed the entire school and grounds, and traced people's movements within the grounds' boundaries. Ted recalled asking Harry about the map's makers, Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

"I believe they were just a bunch of school troublemakers from years back," Harry had said. And then he'd added in an oddly hollow voice, "They're all dead now."

By now Ted, and his best mate, Rodger Adams—who had been his best mate since their first train ride to Hogwarts—knew Hogwarts and its grounds like the backs of their hands.

On the Hogwarts Express that Sunday, Ted met up with Rodger after the train started off. Alone together in a compartment, after they talked about Rodger's holiday, Ted told him all about his: about his birthday, about the letter from Victoire, about his father's box of stuff and what was in it—including what he'd learned so far from reading the letters and newspaper clippings and his father's journals—and that odd thing that had happened the other night, with the prickling sensation in his nose and the shadow he'd seen in the darkness outside his bedroom window. By the time he'd finished the snack trolley had arrived, and Ted and Rodger both supplied themselves with an excellent spread of excellent candies and sweets.

Rodger had a head of thick dirty blond hair that tapered down to the base of his neck in the back, and rather than being lanky, like Ted, he was willowy, gracefully tall, with piercing, smoky blue eyes that couldn't fail to charm the hearts of young witches. Ted didn't mind much though—he could change anything about his own appearance at will. Today, Ted had decided to turn his light brown hair to electric blue.

"Wow," said Rodger, tearing off a bite of his licorice wand, "so your dad was a _werewolf_? Your parents are so much more interesting than mine." Rodger's parents were Muggles, but that's not what Rodger found uninteresting. What he found uninteresting was their jobs: they were lawyers. Actually their personalities were lively and fun. But Rodger found the study of law—whether Muggle or wizarding—a very mundane practice, and it forced his fun-loving parents to act seriously when they were on the job. "But this nose prickling thing…" he went on, "that concerns me some."

"I'm sure it's nothing," said Ted. He couldn't help but feel concerned himself, however.

TAP-TAP-TAP!

Ted looked up and saw Victoire at their compartment door. His palms turned sweaty at once as his heart pounded faster in his chest. He sat up straighter from his lounging slouch on the seat.

Victoire slid the compartment door open and leaned back against the doorjamb with her arms folded beneath her breasts, her dark red hair silvery, fiery, and falling seductively about her gorgeous face and slender shoulders. "Nice hair," she said, smiling attractively at Ted. "Very vivid color, for you, isn't it?"

"Th-That's why I picked it, I s'pose," Ted stammered, his mouth going dry. "Did you get my letter?" He had finally gotten around to answering Victoire's letter only yesterday. There had been no time to talk to Harry about it first, because Ted had spent so much of the rest of his holiday cooped up in his room reading his father's journals.

"I did," said Victoire. "You took a rather long time for such a short message, though."

Ted massaged the back of his neck and did not meet her eye. Even now he was struggling with how he should tell her that he'd simply been struggling with what to say in his reply. The best he could come up with at present was, "Sorry."

He wondered if perhaps it was Victoire's father, Bill Weasley that he should talk to about this: how in the world did Bill manage to land a woman with veela blood? Obviously he'd been quite good-looking when they first met, and was probably no stranger to suavity. Not like Ted was, anyhow: Rodger had always been the charmer, not him.

He chanced a glance at Victoire, who was raising an eyebrow at him. "I really liked…er…hearing from you," he went on hastily. "Really, I did." He attempted a smile that he knew had to look awkward rather than appealing.

He was relieved to see her smile back at him. "There's one more Hogsmeade weekend before finals," she said.

When she did not say anything else, it took Ted a minute to figure out what she was on about. He looked over at Rodger, who had his face buried in a Quidditch magazine. Though Ted couldn't see it, he felt sure his best friend was trying to hide the fact that he was holding in a gale of laughter.

"Er…." He cleared his throat. "Erm, did you…want to…meet there…er…just the two of us?"

"I'd love to," said Victoire pleasantly. Her voice was so melodic it made Ted's heart glow just to hear it. "I'm signing out of the castle early, right in the middle of lunch hour, so…I'll meet you at the post office?"

Ted nodded, unable to form words anymore in her presence.

She smiled more broadly. "Until then, Ted, _au revoir_." She disappeared into the corridor, her long hair twirling about her shoulders as she turned before sliding the compartment door closed behind her.

Ted hoped she didn't know that whenever she spoke French he found it sexy.

Rodger released his laughter at last. "You lucky bloke, you! I dunno what she sees in you—!"

"I dunno what she sees in me either!" Ted exclaimed wildly. For some reason he felt slightly annoyed at Rodger. "Are you saying I'm not good enough for her, Mister Ladies Man?"

The amusement died from Rodger's face as he lowered his magazine. "Well, er…no, I wasn't, mate, but—"

"I know I'm not handsome like you," Ted went on. "And I'm a bit of a klutz. But still—"

"Well, you're not gorgeous enough to have girls sighing and staring at you every time you walk by," Rodger cut across quickly, "but you're not ugly as sin either."

Ted relaxed. "Sorry."

"No problem," said Rodger, tossing his magazine aside. "You know, I expect it's your eyes. They've got that sensitive touch to them. Not all birds can see that in a bloke. That Victoire Weasley's got a good eye for it though." He unwrapped a cauldron cake. "Now, about your nose prickling, I think I'm going to look up some stuff in the library when we get back…."

"Yeah, that sounds good," said Ted vaguely, turning to gaze out the window and daydream about Victoire. Life suddenly seemed a very beautiful thing indeed.

Shortly after Victoire had left, there was another tapping at the door to their compartment, and Ted and Rodger looked around to see a group of blonde and brunette girls peering through the glass, all craning their necks and waving hopefully at Rodger.

Rodger's striking visage lit up. He jumped to his feet and crossed to the door in two easy strides. "Ladies," he greeted in a debonair tone, beaming at all of them charmingly.

"Hello, Rodger," the five girls giggled sheepishly.

Rodger flashed them his pearly whites. "In trouble already?" he asked them. "We haven't even gotten back to school yet."

Ted smiled slightly as he took out his advanced astronomy book and began to read.

That night in the Gryffindor sixth year boys' dormitories found Ted the sole one awake, reading Remus' "1975" journal by wand light:

_1 September_

_I'm glad that James, Sirius, and Peter weren't too hard on me about being made a prefect this year. I think Professor Dumbledore might have made me one in an attempt to exercise some control on them, James and Sirius more so, of course, than Peter. If that's the case, I can already see that I'm going to fail miserably…._

* * *

"Prefect?" said James, his eyes bugging out with incredulity. "Remus? A _prefect_?"

"What do you expect, James?" said Sirius, stretching his legs and tucking his hands behind his head as he stretched out on a seat in their compartment on the Hogwarts' Express. "You and I are in detention all the time."

"Well, what about Peter?" James asked, glancing over at Peter crouching by the window in his seat.

"Me? A prefect?" Peter laughed. "I couldn't order someone around if my life depended on it."

"He's right you know, James," said Sirius.

Remus glanced despondently at the shiny new prefect's badge gleaming on his chest. He sat at the window too, but directly across from Peter, on the opposite side of the compartment, where Sirius had stretched out beside him. Remus had his legs tucked underneath him—his legs that had grown much longer. He was very tall now, but not gracefully so—instead, he was gangling: his long fingers however were quite elegant, as they quietly held the intermediate transfiguration book he was reading.

James, Sirius, and even Peter had grown as well, though Peter was still noticeably the shortest. He barely came up to James' shoulder. But James and Sirius had grown about the same. Sirius had even grown tall gracefully—he was statuesque, and needless to say, he was sexy for a boy of fifteen. James was pretty good-looking, he was statuesque too—but unlike Sirius, he did not have the mysterious gray eyes or the long dark hair that made Sirius look so alluring. Instead he had the same untidy short black hair and dark round glasses over a pair of the same hazel eyes. The popularity he'd built up as the amazing Seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team (a title he'd held since second year) had certainly made up for that, however.

Remus turned a page in his book and said to James, "I suspect that Dumbledore made me a prefect in hopes of keeping an eye on you and Sirius."

James, who was slouching on the seat on the other side of the compartment with Peter, sat up straighter. "But…you wouldn't say…rat us out, or something, would you? I mean you've been sneaking around with us under my Invisibility Cloak since first year, and—"

"I won't," said Remus defensively. "I won't. I promise." _Anything to keep them as my friends_, he added to himself. Despite their demonstration of fierce loyalty when they had not abandoned him at finding out that he was a werewolf, Remus continued to fear that he would do something that would make them stop being his friends anymore.

"James, cut him some slack, will you?" said Sirius. "Remus is our friend. He wouldn't turn into a dirty snitch overnight just because he got a prefect's badge."

Remus felt grateful that at least Sirius was defending him, if not in quite the way he wanted to be. He'd rather Sirius said something that would make Remus feel better about his duties as a prefect.

"You're right," said James, getting to his feet and smiling fondly at Remus. "If we can love Remus with his furry little problem, we can love Remus with his prefect's badge, right?" He pointed his wand at the compartment door, uttering a special concealment charm that would give people outside of the compartment an illusion of what was actually going on within. He did the same to the window.

Remus forgot the sensation of his heart swelling with gratitude, and became wary of what James was doing. "James, why are you charming the door and the window so that people outside will see us doing something in here that we're not _actually_ doing?"

"Sirius, Peter, and I have something to show you," said James, finishing with the window and beaming excitedly as he turned to face Remus. "Sirius? Peter?"

Peter moaned, and Sirius said, "Excellent," with a puckish gleam in his eye.

"What are you talking about?" Remus asked. But then it slowly dawned on him as James, Sirius, and Peter stood in a line before him.

"Peter?" James prompted.

"But James, what if I screw it up?" Peter whimpered. "_Again_?"

"You won't screw it up, Pete," said James bracingly. "You've got it now. Come on. Show Remus."

Peter sighed.

Remus felt a jolt as Peter's head shrank and lengthened, and his clothes seemed to melt into him and vanish and were instantaneously replaced by short brown fur that grew all over his shrinking body. A long tail, pink, naked, and segmented like a worm, sprouted from his backside, while his ears became tiny flaps, and faint whiskers poked out from his nose. His watery eyes became small, black and beady, and his hands and feet turned into pink paws with teeny tiny claws. The two pairs of incisors on his upper and lower jaws became one pair and grew longer. When he was done, he was sitting back on his haunches, standing up straight at no more than six or seven inches, and squeaking. Peter had transformed into a rat.

Remus gaped at the other two.

"Sirius?" James prompted, his smile disclosing his gratification.

Sirius shrank too, but not as much as Peter had. His clothes dissolved too, and were immediately replaced by a thick covering of long, shaggy black fur as his hands and feet became padded paws. His nose and mouth lengthened into a snout, his teeth became sharp, a long tail erupted from his backside, and his ears grew and flopped. He dropped to all fours, his grey eyes now simply huge and adorable, his long pink tongue lolling out as he panted and wagged his tail, his open mouth shaped in a way that made it look as though he were smiling. And to think that Remus had often secretly attributed Sirius' various mannerisms and such to those of a dog's: now Sirius had literally _turned into_ a dog.

Remus sighed, shaking his head. Then he looked up at James. "James?" he prompted, arching an eyebrow.

"Don't mind if I do," said James.

Instead of shrinking, as Sirius and Peter had done, Remus saw that James grew as he began his transformation. His clothes dissolved to be replaced at once by short, black hair. His glasses dissolved into faint white circles around his hazel eyes, which then moved to the side of his head (Remus found this a little weird). His face lengthened as well. His ears became long and leaf-shaped, a stub of a tail emerged from his backside, his hands and feet melded into cloven hooves, and his arms and legs became gracefully elongated. He dropped to all fours as well with a thud that made Remus afraid someone would burst in at any moment and see what was really going on inside their compartment. But he forgot this fear when he saw antlers sprout from behind James' ears, cracking as they branched out like super-fast-growing trees. He squeezed his eyes shut while this occurred as though this part of the process gave him a slight headache. But it was over quickly, and soon James stood before him in the form of a great black forest stag.

Remus buried his face in his hands. They had done it! They had really gone and done it! He didn't know whether to be excited or anxious, and then this indecision just made him furious.

"So…what do you think?" James' voice asked.

Remus looked up and saw that his friends had turned back into themselves. Sirius started immediately lifting the charms James had placed on the door and window.

"He hates it!" Peter cried, collapsing back into his seat.

"No, Peter, I don't hate it," said Remus truthfully. "I think it's brilliant that you guys could pull it off, considering the circumstances. Especially you, Peter. But…remind me again how this is supposed to be a way for you spend time with me during the full moon? I mean I know that as animals I won't be a threat to you, but…."

"At least say you'll give it a try with us?" James implored. "Please?"

"Yeah, c'mon, Remus," said Sirius bracingly. "We want to help you out some. Don't make us feel like we went to all of this trouble for nothing."

"Well…." Remus bit his lip. While one side of him was against it, there was another side of him that was all for it.

_C'mon, what's a little risk when you can have the chance to be with your friends when you need them the most?__  
_

_But you'll be breaking so many rules…not only regular school rules, but the special rules that Dumbledore laid down specifically for others' and your protection. How can you betray his trust like that?_

Just then they heard a tapping at the door, and saw Lily, glaring, her toe tapping impatiently on the corridor carpet with her arms folded beneath her breasts—which Remus couldn't help but notice were perfect, attractively complementing the curves of the rest of her willowy, hourglass figure: she too had grown a lot in the past four years.

James seemed to have noticed the swan that had emerged from Lily as well. As she slid open the compartment door without invitation, Remus noticed that James was gawping at her with a dazed expression—the kind a guy gets when he sets eyes on a veela.

But Lily marched straight up to him without bothering to close the door behind her and slapped him hard across the face.

James clutched the cheek she had struck, his glasses knocked slightly askew. "What was _that _for?" he demanded in a whimper. She had to have hit him really hard to make him use a pathetic tone like that.

"You bloody well know what, Potter!" Lily snapped, placing her hands on her hips. Remus thought she looked gorgeous when she was in a rage: her dark red hair blazed fierily, and her green almond-shaped eyes flashed like emerald lightning. "I'm absolutely disgusted with 

you! Can't even wait until we get to school to start humiliating him, can you?"

"Oh, come on now, Evans, Snivellus was up to no good, and I was just—" James was pleading with Lily. He was _pleading _with her. He had never spoken to her like this before.

Remus, Sirius, and Peter all seemed to realize this, for they exchanged questioning glances with each other.

Lily had silenced James, however, by drawing her wand and pointing it between his eyes.

James looked cross-eyed as he peered down at her wand tip so close to the bridge of his nose.

"You'd better leave him alone, Potter," Lily warned through gritted teeth, "or I swear I'll hex you so bad you'll never play Quidditch again!"

The old James seemed to reappear as his eyes shifted from the wand tip to Lily's face with an expression of indignance. "Hey, that's going too far, Evans!" And then he went from indignant to affable, as his lips curved into a cocky smile. "You wouldn't _really_ hex me that bad, now would you?"

"Just see if I _don't_, Potter!" Lily spat, and a few red sparks erupted from the end of her wand on the word "don't", during which James squeezed his eyes shut, the fear returned to his features.

Without breaking her glare with him, she stuffed her wand back into her robes, turned on her heel, and left the compartment, slamming the compartment door shut so hard that the glass within it shattered.

"_Reparo_," Sirius muttered, pointing his wand at the shards of glass, which all reassembled themselves instantly, good as new.

"You alright, mate?" Remus asked James, peering at him.

James had slumped back against the window, slightly breathless, as if he'd just caught the Snitch and won another Quidditch match. "Yeah…I…." He reached up and gently clutched again the cheek that Lily had slapped. He was staring off at some faraway place not meeting the other three's concerned gazes. "I…." Remus could see his face glow as a grin spread slowly across his face. "I think I'm in love."

Yet while Remus sniggered with Sirius and Peter, he could not help but feel a tiny needle of jealousy prick his heart.

* * *

Remus continued to worry.

Sirius and James continued to tell him _not_ to worry.

"We've got it all planned out," James was telling him in the library. "We'll leave under the Invisibility Cloak once the dormitory's quiet. We'll go all the way out to the Whomping Willow, and then Peter'll transform. As a rat, he'll be small enough to safely reach the Whomping Willow's trunk and press that special knot you told us about."  


"The one that freezes the tree?" said Remus.

"Yep," said Sirius. "Once that's done, James and I'll transform. Then I'll go down the tunnel—"

"By yourself? You must be joking!"

"Shhh!"

"Sorry. Go on."

"So, I'll transform and go down the tunnel and bring you out. Once you're out, Peter'll unfreeze the tree, and we'll be all set."

"All set? All set for what?"

Sirius shrugged. "I dunno. Knocking about with you on the Hogwarts grounds, I s'pose."

"And James' cloak?" Remus asked.

"While Sirius is down with you, I will be taking care of the cloak," said James. "Before I transform, I'll stick it securely in my bag, and then stick my bag in the roots of the tree."

"And just how are you going to leave me, after this night of fun?"

"We'll go back to the Whomping Willow about an hour before sunrise. After Peter presses the freezing knot, Sirius'll lead you back down the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack, and leave you there. He can open and close the trapdoor with his mouth, see. And then he'll head back up the tunnel, Peter'll unfreeze the tree, I'll get the cloak from my bag, and then we'll get back underneath it and sneak back upstairs to the dormitory before everyone else wakes up."

"Sneak back from where?" inquired a voice from the shadows in between the shelves.

Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter all whipped their heads around from their seats at the table at which they were sitting to see Severus step out from behind one of the shelves. He had a manic glee about his features as though he'd discovered a secret mountain made entirely of chocolate frogs. He had grown in the last four years too. He had grown, though not nearly as tall as James and Sirius had. His long black hair had grown as well, so greasy that it hung about his sallow face in long, dangling clumps.

"You!" James hissed.

James and Severus both whipped their wands out at the exact same time, James rising from his chair and shoving it aside as he did so.

"James, come on!" Remus implored in a strained whisper as James and Severus began circling each other. "Don't be _stupid_!" He noticed Sirius unsheathing his own wand as well. "_Sirius_!"

"Just in case he needs back-up," said Sirius.

Remus buried his face in his hands.

"_Incarc_—!"

"_Impedimenta_!"

CRASH!

Remus dared to look up from behind his hands to see what had happened. He caught a glimpse of Severus sprawled against a library wall, moaning, before Madam Pince was upon them. She shouted at them for having their wands out and using them to duel in the library. Severus crawled to his feet, not hesitating to point fingers at James and Sirius, who had both used the Impediment Jinx against him at the exact same time. James and Sirius did not hesitate in accusing Severus of his attempt to capture James in a net of ropes.

Madam Pince had all three of them thrown into detention.

* * *

It was time.

"See you later, Remus," said Sirius with a wink.

"Yeah…sure," said Remus, grinning nervously back over his shoulder at James, Sirius, and Peter all lounging by the merrily crackling fire in the Gryffindor common room. He sighed as he turned away from them and climbed through the portrait hole.

As usual, Madam Pomfrey escorted Remus down to the Whomping Willow and froze the tree for him so he could climb down into the tunnel. There was a churning in his stomach tonight that was different than the churning he got on any other evening approach of the full moon.

He climbed up through the trapdoor in the floor of the Shrieking Shack's first story. He went through the paces of stripping down and setting his clothes in the tunnel for Madam Pomfrey before closing the trapdoor. Half of him hoped that Sirius wouldn't be able to open it as a dog, and then he'd be kept safe for sure.

The compulsion to peer through the slats of wood boarding up the windows gripped him, and Remus had to bend to its will. He crossed to the window and watched, transfixed, as the full moon began to rise over the mountains. The light was so beautiful, as it reached his pupils….

He suffered the usual roaring in his ears, the excruciating pain that ripped through his violently changing body. When his spine cracked sickeningly to form the hunch in his back, the pain peaked right on time, as always, and the world began to dissolve. Just as he was losing the last shred of his mind to the darkness, he heard a scritch-scratching from beneath the floor, and the creak of the trapdoor swinging open and hitting the floor with a thud, as a large, black shape emerged from below….

And the darkness shifted.

A haze of gray emerged from it and expanded gradually into gloomy light. A dog barked faintly, but it echoed, even as it steadily grew louder. It was a friendly bark. No need to attack. No need to kill. Dogs were not prey.  


A room came into focus. The dog's barks sharpened and stopped echoing. It stood there, wagging its tail, its tongue lolling out the side of its seemingly smiling mouth as it panted and looked up with huge, adorable gray eyes.

And the gray eyes seemed to speak. Wow, Remus, they said.

Remus? Who was Remus?

_He _was Remus…wasn't he…?

No.

The room started to go out of focus. He was not Remus. He was the wolf. Remus was in darkness.

Everything dissolved into swallowing shadows.

Barking. Friendly barking. Remus! Come on, Remus! It's alright! Come with me…. The gray eyes were speaking again. Their voice was familiar….

Their voice was Sirius' voice….

Who was Sirius?

Sirius was one of Remus' best friends.

Who was Remus?

_He _was Remus….

The room came back into sharp focus.

The dog stood by the trapdoor, barking its friendly bark. C'mon, Remus! It's alright! That dog was Sirius!

This room was in the Shrieking Shack!

His name was Remus Lupin!

He could remember who he was!

With a thrill of joy, he threw back his head and howled his haunting werewolf howl.

C'mon, Remus! Sirius the black dog urged him. James and Peter are waiting for us!

James and Peter…more of Remus' friends…more of _his _friends….

Remus bristled with delight and trotted on his four great paws to join Sirius at the trapdoor. He followed him down the tunnel all the way out into the cool night air. The grounds were bathed in moonlight….

Moonlight was the time to kill….  


The world threatened to dissolve again as the sensation of gnashing dagger-sharp teeth dissipated in the jaws….

Barking. Friendly barking. Easy there, Remus! Sirius, that was Sirius. Remus' friend. _His _friend.

There was a stag too. And on the stag there was a rat as well. Their eyes spoke too.

It's okay, Remus, said the stag. That voice…that was James! Remus' other best friend! _His _other best friend!

Please don't hurt me, Remus, whimpered the rat. The rat…the rat was Peter! Remus' best friend too! _His _best friend too!

He was surrounded by friends. Remus' friends. _His _friends.

Could he speak, like they spoke? Could he tell them now how glad he was they were there?

You okay, Remus? Sirius asked.

They were all peering at him. He was bigger than Sirius and Peter. But James was slightly larger than he.

Maybe he can't talk back like we can, James suggested to Sirius. Then he said to Remus, Remus, can you hear us? Just nod if you're not able to form words.

Yes, he could hear them.

_Yes…I can…hear you!_

Yesssssssssssss…I…cannnnnnnnn…hearrrrrrrrrrrr…you… he managed.

Excellent! James and Sirius exclaimed together. They sounded happy.

Happy.

Remus was happy. He was very happy. He felt so happy that he raised his wolf's tail into the air as high as it would go.

They were all here with him. He wasn't alone tonight.

His happiness swelled so much he couldn't stand still any longer. He loped round and round in circles, letting his tongue loll out like Sirius. Rrrrrrrrunning! he cried gleefully. I…want…to…go…rrrrrrrrunning! He stopped loping, reared his head back, and howled at the moon. It was so beautiful…and it had been years since he'd seen a full one in his own mind….

Sirius barked. Brilliant idea, Remus! I've been wanting to try out these dog legs….

I'll…er…just stay up here, thanks, Peter squeaked from his perch atop James' cervine shoulder. Might get crushed by one of you, you know….

Suit yourself, said James. I, however, want to test the speed and power of the stag!

Siriusssssss…? Jamessssss…? Shalllll we rrrrrrace then? Remus challenged, turning his back on the moon. His speech seemed to be improving.

I'm game, said Sirius, lowering his body to the ground as if preparing to spring. James? You game?

So game, said James, preparing to spring as well.

Remus bounded past them all, and loped across the open stretch of grass that lay before them and ran between the forest and the castle. Catch me iffffffffff you can! he called over his shoulder.

Remus, you sly wolf! laughed Sirius behind him.

Remus heard him and James whooping as the three of them ran free across the vast stretch of grass, with Peter clinging onto James' back for dear life. Remus whooped too, and howled with delight.

They ran until they grew tired. And then they searched the forest for a stream where they drank water and rested before running some more. They kept this up until the moon had made its nightly journey across the sky. They were having such wonderful fun that they nearly lost track of the time.

Blimey, it's forty minutes 'til sun-up! James cried anxiously. Sirius! Peter! We've gotta take Remus back to the Whomping Willow!

Right, said Sirius. C'mon, Remus! He bounded off across the grounds with James still carrying Peter on his back.

Rrrrrrright behind you! Remus called as he chased after them. He followed Sirius' tail all the way down into the dark tunnel that lead to the Shrieking Shack.

Up we go, Remus, said Sirius once he'd opened up the trapdoor for him.

Remus climbed up through the trapdoor. The moment he emerged into the room on the first floor of the Shrieking Shack, he bounded about ecstatically. Siriusssssss! This was wonderfulllllllll!

Sirius barked. It was, wasn't it! It was brilliant! But I've gotta go! James and Peter and I've gotta get back into the school before everyone wakes up!

Oh, rrrrrright. Of coursssssssse, said Remus, ceasing to romp about the room and looking at Sirius standing by the trapdoor.

See you when you wake up in the hospital wing! said Sirius, diving below through the trap door and closing it with his mouth. It shut with a loud slam of wood on wood.

See you! Remus called after him.

His happiness increased even more. He'd managed not to slur even once, that time!

But what was slurring, anyhow?

Who cared about slurring…?

It was time…to kill….

But there was nothing here…to be killed….

The sensation of jaws clamping down on a paw that shared the same body trembling with a low growl was lost, as the world dissolved into the darkness, which remained for only a moment before Remus fluttered his eyes open to find himself lying in a bed in the sunlit ward of the hospital wing with his fist jammed in his mouth. He took it out and dried off his saliva on his blanket.

"He's been having…er…" said Madam Pomfrey's voice from outside the ward.

"You don't have to lie, Ma-a-a-adam Pomfrey," said James' voice, which was stifling a yawn. "We know his condition."

"Well…er…in that case, he's been experiencing _somnus lupus_." Madam Pomfrey appeared in the ward with James, Sirius, and Peter in tow. They looked none the worse for wear after their nighttime escapade. They did, however, have huge bags under their bleary eyes from lack of sleep.

Nevertheless, they all beamed at Remus when they reached his bed.

"How are you?" Sirius asked when Madam Pomfrey had gone.

"Not bad for someone who's apparently been experiencing _somnus lupus_ and then woke up with his fist in his mouth," said Remus, shrugging. "You?"

"Bit tired," yawned Sirius.

"Ditto," said James. "But it was worth it."

"I'm going to fall asleep in my potions exam today," Peter moaned. "I just _know _it…."

"Guys?" said Remus.

"Yeah?" said the other three together.

"Did it…did it all really happen?"

Sirius laughed and ruffled Remus' hair. "Yeah, it did!"

"Really?"

"Really," said Peter, grinning despite his troubles.

"And you didn't get caught?"

They shook their heads.

"And I didn't attack any of you?"

There was a slight hesitation at this query, but then Remus was relieved to see them shake their heads again.

"Now you get some rest, Moony," said James, ruffling Remus' hair just as Sirius had done a moment before.

Remus tilted his head and furrowed his brow. "What did you just call me?"

"Moony," said James, grinning still more broadly. "Fits, dunnit?"


	6. Perceptual Prickles

**Chapter Six**

**Perceptual Prickles **

Ted blinked.

Was it possible?

He reread the last few words in the entry he was reading:

_…and then James told me to get some rest and called me something I'd never been called before. I asked him what he'd called me, and he said he'd called me, Moony. And then he added with that grin of his, "Fits, dunnit?" Apparently _he _had come up with the idea right at that very moment. He just called me Moony, right out of the blue, and as an afterthought, decided it was very clever of him. So…now that's all they call me—my friends, anyway. _

So…he _had _read it correctly. James really _did _just call his father Moony here. He had just nicknamed him, Moony.

But…it couldn't be…the _same _Moony…as the Moony on that map Harry gave him for his twelfth birthday…could it…?

Ted marked the spot where he'd left off in the "1975" journal, laid it on his bedside table, got up out of bed, and went to his bag, where he dug out the map in question. He returned to his bed with it, sat on it with his legs crossed, and set it before him on the blankets. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he whispered, tapping the parchment with his wand.

The ink materialized before his eyes, as it always did, reading: "_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs, Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present, The Marauder's Map_."

There it was in enchanted ink: _Moony_.

It all fit. His father had three best friends. That made four, and here were four mapmakers, one of whom had been called Moony, that one being his father.

And yet, that wasn't enough. Perhaps it was coincidence. He knew of people whose last name was Moony. It wasn't their nickname. They actually _were _Mr. Moony. Besides, wouldn't Harry have told him if this map had been co-created by Remus?

He wondered if the map was dated. If he saw the date it was made, that might give him some small clue. He didn't see a date beneath the title, so he opened it up and searched for one on the actual map itself.

Then something caught his eye and distracted his mind from his goal: an unfamiliar name….

It was a dot labeled, "Liane Géroux", and it was roaming outside on the grounds.

_Liane Géroux…must be French…. _He followed the dot with the lit tip of his wand, and saw that she—he assumed Liane was a girl's name—was moving as if searching for something. When she started moving closer to the castle, her course more direct and deliberate, she appeared to have found it. He glanced ahead of her to see where she was headed, and realized that it was Gryffindor tower.

Faintly, the prickling sensation in his nose came back, growing more and more intense…as Liane drew closer and closer to the tower….

Ted leapt off the bed, and, as he rushed to the window, ran smack into the post of his four-poster bed. "Damn…stupid…bloody post…" he muttered, relieved nonetheless that he hadn't woken anyone up. He rubbed the pain in his forehead with the heel of his hand as he walked the rest of the way to the window and peered outside. Even though the moon was a waxing gibbous, the cloudy night meant that the skies had little light to offer to the dark grounds. Luckily there was a lit torch on an iron bracket on the outside wall just below the window. He caught sight of the shadow moving across the stretch of grass within the dim light. It did not move into the pool of illumination offered by the torch's flame, but its silhouette was cast upon it, and it was unmistakably the figure of a woman. But then the silhouette's caster seemed to realize that he was watching her, because the next thing she did once he saw her was dash off in the direction of the Forbidden Forest, and disappear into its obscurities.

Soon after she'd gone, the prickling sensation in Ted's nose went away again.

* * *

"How late were you up 'til reading that thing?" Rodger asked Ted over breakfast in the Great Hall the next morning.

Ted, so exhausted that he'd laid his head (still pounding from his "run-in" with the post of his four-poster) down beside his bowl of cornflakes as he struggled to transfer bites of it to his mouth, mumbled, "Not _too_ late…." There were bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. After seeing Liane out on the grounds last night, his curiosity about whether his father was really one of the creators of the Marauders' Map had been overpowered by his curiosity about her. The fact that her presence had suddenly provoked his nose to prickle exactly as it had before had to be proof—or at least good hard evidence—that _she _had been the shadow he'd seen out his bedroom window over the Easter holiday….

"If you even really _did_ see something," Rodger said skeptically when Ted told him this (however wearily). "Easter, you could have been imagining things. And this could have been a coincidence. I know what you're thinking though."

"What?" Ted growled, raising his head from the table and glaring at him with his bleary eyes. His hair was brown again today, though if he were truly angry, and if he weren't so tired, he might have turned it scarlet. "What am I thinking?"

"That Liane is the reason your nose's been prickling!"

"Well, have _you _got any bright ideas yet?"

"No, because I haven't had a chance to get to the library yet." Rodger paused, scrutinizing 

Ted as Ted forced himself to sit up and hunch over his breakfast, commencing to stab moodily at the soggy cornflakes with his spoon.

"_Bonjour_, Teddy!"

Ted looked around and saw Victoire waving at him as she left the Great Hall with her group of fourth year girl friends. He was only able to manage a small wave, his mouth agape, as he watched her disappear. How perfectly she could speak French one moment, and then English the next, both accents completely impeccable and authentic. He found he was slightly breathless. He swooned and fell right off of his seat, colliding painfully with the hard stone floor.

"You alright there, Ted?" Rodger asked, crawling under the table to him and pulling him to his feet. Straightening Ted out after an accident was something that after so many years of being his best friend, now came naturally to Rodger.

"No, not really," Ted grumbled, sitting back down. He glared around at the surrounding Gryffindors giggling at him. Most of them were first and second years. At his gaze they stopped at once.

Instead of crawling back to where he'd been sitting across from Ted, Rodger sat down beside him. "You're lucky you're not dead, the accidents you have sometimes," he chuckled.

Ted managed a smile despite his mild misery. His backside was aching, and he twisted his face in pain. "I think I'm gonna be feeling this in my arse tomorrow morning."

Shortly after classes that afternoon, Ted and Rodger headed down to the library. In ten minutes they had set themselves up at a table with stacks of books and old parchment scrolls. They dived into work immediately, but it was not schoolwork that they were doing. While Rodger looked up reasons as to why Ted's nose would suddenly prickle for no _obvious _reason, and why it prickled when it did, Ted tried looking up the name Liane Géroux.

"Didn't you say your godfather's scar used to prickle sometimes?" Rodger asked.

"What?" said Ted, looking up from the book he'd been scanning on a history of foreign witches and wizards. "Oh yeah. He told me it did whenever Voldemort was near, or when he was catching glimpses of Voldemort's insight, or something like that. But…it also burned a hell of a lot too. One time he said, after he'd had the vision of Voldemort's snake attacking Victoire's granddad, the pain in his scar when he woke up was so bad he chucked."

"You haven't had any pain in your _nose_, though, have you?"

"No. Just prickling. The worst of it is just that it prickles faster when…well I guess it has something to do with whatever makes it prickle in the first place. Basically it's the same kind of prickle you get in your foot when it falls asleep. Or your leg. Or wherever."

Rodger nodded and returned to scanning through the book he had.

Ted returned to scanning through the history on foreign witches and wizards. But while even after searching until dinnertime, he found nothing about a Liane Géroux, or even a family with the surname, Géroux.

Rodger's efforts on the other hand, appeared far less fruitless. "Aha!" he said triumphantly. "I think I've got something here."

Ted looked up from the scrolls of old wizarding families of francophone countries that he was examining and leaned forward in his chair. "What is it?"

Rodger handed him the book so that Ted could read for himself. The book was very new and updated to as far back as a year ago.

"What am I reading?" he asked, turning the book around so as to not have to read it upside down, since Rodger had handed it to him that way straight across the table.

"Underneath the section titled, 'Natural-Born Alarm Systems'."

Ted scrolled down to where it said this and read:

_**Natural-Born Alarm Systems**_

_Just like some people are born with the rare gifts of the Metamorphmagus, some people are born with the rare quality of possessing some sort of signal-giver of sorts. In short, some people are born with natural-born alarm systems. A person like this will experience a prickling sensation, on a certain spot on their body, and only when certain external conditions are met. These said conditions are what the person's internal alarm system is alerting them to.__The most common alarm system among the many different kinds there are amongst this rare and particular gift, is the ability to detect the presence of poison. One person born with this kind of alarm was Severus Tobias Snape (1960-98). In his case, the body part was the tongue. So, if Snape was ever close to poison, his tongue would start to prickle.__This prickling sensation that these alarms emit in their signal, is a type of prickle called a Perceptual Prickle. It is no different from the pins and needles feeling one gets when something like their foot or their leg falls asleep. However, Perceptual Prickles never occur in the feet or the leg. They occur in body parts that are in virtually no position to fall sleep (unlike a leg or a foot, an arm or a hand, or even the posterior). Tongues, on the other hand, are hardly likely to be sat on until the nerves are squashed enough to create the same effect. __In addition to tongues, other possible body parts that can emit the Perceptual Prickle in someone with a built-in alarm system are: ears, eyeballs, navels, and noses. However, just because someone has the ability to detect poison does not necessarily mean they will feel the Perceptual Prickle in their tongue, like Severus Snape. They could feel it in any of the other four body parts listed. __If a person possesses this kind of inborn ability of detection, the only way to figure out what it is they can detect is testing it on different things. Severus Snape, shortly after being given the post of potions master at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, discovered that poisons were what he could detect, when he quickly noticed that every time he neared his store of poisons, his tongue prickled like mad, but stopped as soon as he was far enough away from them. __  
_

_The Perceptual Prickle, of course, grows more intense on the condition that whatever's being detected comes into closer range, and or the amount of it increases in number. So, Perceptual Prickles can get at their most intense peaks where the person with the detection ability is at close quarters with a vast amount of whatever they're detecting (hence Snape's tongue simply prickling "like mad" whenever he neared his large store of various poisons). __But poison isn't the only thing that can be detected by a natural-born alarm system. Other such systems include ones that detect the presence of the cadavers of murder victims, the presence of pure gold, the presence of a specific breed of dark creature (note: this excludes dementors, since they can be sensed by other means by anyone—even Muggles), the presence of someone guilty of treachery, the presence of Animagi in their animal forms, or the presence of someone under the influence of some form of invisibility. (For a full list of all the different kinds of natural-born alarm systems, refer to a copy of another one of my books,_ Sourcebook on Rare and Common Inborn Abilities_.)_

Ted raised his eyes from the page and stared at Rodger, who had leaned back in his chair across from him, his arms folded, and his mouth curved in a satisfied and triumphant grin. He frowned slightly, set down the book but leaving it lying open, and gazed out the dark window beside them, seeing his own reflection faintly as the skies outside gradually darkened. His head swam with thought.

It was possible. It was very possible. And it all appeared to fit. His nose's prickle had to be the Perceptual Prickle of an alarm system with which he had been born. Both times that he had felt the Prickle he had seen something: a shadow, a shadow that Ted had come to realize was that of a woman's. He was convinced that she had been present both times his nose had prickled, even if Rodger continued to be skeptical. But then that was typical Rodger. However, Ted's theory would not be swayed by Rodger's skepticism. If not a woman, it was definitely something in a person that he was able to detect. Now, what exactly _was _that something?

At first he thought that because it was a person, this automatically ruled out gold…but then, he thought, the person could have been carrying gold. But then he ruled it out again when he realized that if it _was _gold that he could detect, he would have had this prickling thing happen to him at home whenever he got close to where ever it was that his grandmother kept money—the gold Galleons were obviously what would have set it off.

Unless the person was an Inferus (he shuddered at the thought), it couldn't have been a murder victim's cadaver. The more Ted thought it through, he felt sure it _couldn't_, because Inferi couldn't move with the swiftness that the mysterious woman had.

It couldn't be the one about Animagi in their animal forms. He would only have the Prickle if the woman was in her animal form—if she was even an Animagus at all. So, that one was definitely not a possibility. She also hadn't been invisible. He hadn't needed a Perceptual Prickle to know she was there. He'd seen her for himself—mind, the most he'd seen so far was her silhouette, but that in and of itself indicated that she hadn't been under the influence of some form of invisibility.

That left the presence of a specific breed of dark creature, or someone guilty of treachery. But then, he reminded himself, the list he'd just read was only an immensely abridged one. He'd need the full list if he wanted to winnow it down accurately.

He sensed Rodger stretching and yawning and then rising to his feet to start collecting books and parchment scrolls to put them back where they'd gotten them. "Wait, Rodger, before you do that," he said, turning away from the window, "do you happen to have this sourcebook they mention here?"

"The one on rare and common inborn abilities?" Rodger asked. "Oh…yeah…it's right here." He picked up a small leather-bound book and handed it to Ted.

"Cheers," said Ted, stowing it in his bag. He closed the book Rodger had handed him to read from still lying open in front of him. Upon closing it, he caught sight of the cover, which read: _Wizarding Genetics and Heredity_ by Michael Corner. He reopened and flicked through it, and saw with keen interest that there was a chapter devoted to the study of Metamorphmagi. Being quite ignorant of the scientific nature of his own—and what was also his mother's—power of metamorphosing, he decided to check this book out of the library in addition to the sourcebook. He loved reading, and he read quickly, so he wasn't too concerned about any extra reading in these two books on top of what he had to read to study for his finals and the rest of his father's journals that all together covered roughly the last twenty-seven years of Remus Lupin's life.

And then thinking of the journals reawakened his curiosity to know if his father's being nicknamed Moony meant that he had been the same Moony whose name appeared in the title of the Marauders' Map. So, that night, when all the other boys were asleep in the dormitory, Ted was wide awake in bed with the "1975" journal opened to where he'd last left off as he continued reading it through by the light of his wand.

* * *

Unfortunately, Ted was so tired from the night before that he'd barely read a page in the journal before realizing that he was reading the same line over and over out of ill-focused exhaustion. Heaving a sigh, he stowed the book away in the ANSWERS box and turned the box back into a gold Gobstone before burying himself beneath his blankets so that only his brown hair peeked out. He curled up into a ball, and as he made the crossing into the world of dreams, he faced a restless night filled with the anguished voices of men and women, the incessant prickling of his nose….

_And then his old stuffed wolf Rory was talking to him as a small child before becoming a real wolf and inviting him to run with him and the rest of the pack and howl at the moon…and Ted did…and as he ran, he fell onto all fours…his body was covered in fur…he howled at the bright, white circle glaring with the reflection of sunlight in the midnight skies…and he saw Rory and his other fellow wolves tear at flesh: the flesh of rabbits, the flesh of deer, the flesh of people…no, not people…they couldn't be…_werewolves_ tore at human flesh, but not _real _wolves…wolves couldn't even be found in the British Isles anymore…but then maybe he wasn't in Britain…._

_Rory approached him, his muzzle laced with blood. He had something rectangular in his mouth. He was getting blood and saliva all over it. He dropped it at Ted's feet. Ted sniffed at it with his own long wolf's nose, and realized it was the picture of his parents that he kept on the table beside his bed at home…. _

_He looked up at Rory in disbelief. "Rory, what've you done? You've ruined it! That was important to me! I told you that!" _

_And Rory's lupine eyes filled with horror. He spoke to Ted in the voice that Ted had always imagined him to have: boyish and slightly hoarse. "Teddy, Teddy, I'm so sorry! Oh, God, what have I done? Forgive me, Teddy, please!" Before Ted's eyes, Rory transformed into his __father, exactly as he appeared in the photograph. _

_"Dad?" Ted breathed. _

_His father looked down at him, still pleading with him. There was no longer blood on his face, but he acted as if it had remained. Ashamed he turned away from Ted and spoke in a lower timbre version of Rory's voice. "I'm so sorry, son. I never meant for this…." His voice broke and shook, and Ted tried to speak to him, to tell him everything was alright, but now all of a sudden he couldn't speak human. He could only bark and yip like a young wolf._

_His father turned to face him again._

_Another wolf from the pack came over to them, and stopped beside Remus. She transformed into Ted's smiling mother. She reached down and scratched him behind the ears. _

_Ted whimpered for his father to scratch him too. _

_Remus' melancholy visage brightened as he smiled, all sadness gone without a trace, and he too reached down to scratch Ted behind the ears. _

_The rest of the pack howled and disappeared into the darkness of the forest. _

_Remus looked over at Nymphadora. "We have to go, love."_

_Now Ted perceived sadness in his mother's face. "Goodbye little one," she whispered in a younger, smoother version of his grandmother Andromeda's voice. Her eyes gleamed with tears as she took Remus' hand. _

_Remus gave Ted one last scratch behind the ears. Despite the despondence in his own eyes, he managed a fragile smile as he said, "Chin up, Ted," and then turned away with Nymphadora, to walk hand in hand alongside her, following the pack of wolves into the forest. _

_Ted loped after them. But when he tried to follow them into the trees, there was some kind of barrier that prevented him from entering. In the shadows he saw them face him one last time, waving at him, wearing doleful smiles before fading away into nothingness._

_When they had disappeared the prickling in his nose ceased__Ted howled mournfully at the pale full moon above him…._


	7. Childhood Memory

**Chapter Seven**

**Childhood Memory**

Ted awoke with the mournful howl seeming to live inside of him, inside his very soul. He turned over and tried in vain to return to the wonderful, relaxed state of sleep. It was only around one in the morning. He needed sleep. Unfortunately he did not manage anything close to sleep until the outside had turned gray with early morning, because after he'd awoken from that awful, terrible dream, something in the back of his mind kept bothering him and it gave him the urge to move around, and toss and turn in his sheets. In the end he found sleep simply out of exhaustion from tossing and turning so much.

The very next morning he overslept. Luckily, Rodger was looking out for him.

"Get up!" he exclaimed, ripping the covers off of Ted.

"Five more minutes…" Ted moaned.

"We've got _charms_ in five minutes!"

"What?!"

Rodger jammed a slice of toast into Ted's open mouth. "Come on!"

They barely made it to charms in time, with Ted cramming the last bit of toast into his mouth. It was just a good thing the Marauder's Map had taught them shortcuts in case of emergencies such as this.

Ted wasn't able to read any of the journal that evening though either, because he and Rodger had Quidditch practice. They were the team's Beaters, and the practice went late into the night, prepping for the final match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. The next evening, Wednesday, was devoted to studying for finals. And then the following evening, on Thursday, they had another Quidditch practice, and, again, it went late. On Friday evening, Ted was hitting the books again in the Gryffindor common room. But he couldn't concentrate. As he idly fingered the gold Gobstone that was actually the ANSWERS box in his trouser pocket, lounging on the sofa in front of the merrily crackling fire with a book on arithmancy propped open in front of him, he daydreamed of his date with Victoire the following day. He couldn't see her anywhere in the common room at the moment, and in fact, he hadn't seen her at all since she'd said hi to him that past Monday morning at breakfast in the Great Hall.

And then his nose began to prickle.

He dived for his bag at once, sending the arithmancy book to the floor with a dull thud. Rodger was surprised, as he'd been below him on the floor stretched out on his stomach, and the book in question had nearly crashed right onto his head. "Watch it, Ted!" he said indignantly.

Ted barely heard him. Nose still prickling, he whipped out the Marauder's Map from his bag. Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he opened up the map and examined it. "There!" he exclaimed under his breath.

"_What's_ there?" Rodger asked, still irked that Ted had nearly given him a concussion.

Ted raised his eyes from the map to Rodger. "My nose just started prickling again, so I checked to see if Liane Géroux's name was on here again, and it _is_! Look!" He pointed out the dot labeled "Liane Géroux" pacing outside on the grounds, in proximity of Gryffindor tower. Just like before. "That's where she was on Sunday," Ted explained. "I went to the window and saw her. And my nose was prickling then too. Come on, Rodger, you can't deny she was the shadow I saw out my bedroom window!" His nose continued to prickle, and had a compulsion to run to the window that very second and see if he could see her again, just so Rodger could see for himself that she was real.

"Hey, look!"

Ted and Rodger glanced up from the map and saw Bartholomew Spinnet pointing out the very same window to which Ted was just considering to run.

"What is it, Spin?" asked Bartholomew's best friend, Terrence Jordan. Bartholomew had earned the nickname in his position as Keeper on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and much preferred it to his first name. It was also clever because the word "spin" happened to be in his last name anyhow.

"There's someone out there, Terry," said Bartholomew.

"Mischief managed," Ted whispered to the Marauder's Map as he tapped it with his wand before folding it up and stowing it in his pocket with the gold Gobstone. He leapt to his feet and crossed over to the window where a crowd of Gryffindors was already forming to get a glimpse of what Bartholomew was seeing. As he reached it, his foot caught the leg of a chair and he fell to the floor.

Rodger, who had followed him, pulled him up to his feet.

They stood together at the edge of the knot, but by now there were so many that they couldn't get through.

"They're gone!" Terrence announced. "Whoever they were…."

Ted's heart sank, along with everyone else's gathered around the window.

"It looked like a woman," said Bartholomew as the dispelled throng gradually dispersed in a cacophony of chatter.

Ted's heart leapt again. "A woman!" he said, turning to Rodger. "See? I told you! I wasn't imagining—!"

"You can't just go on Spin's word, mate," said Rodger. "His perception could have easily been distorted. It's awfully dark out there…."

Ted scowled at him and wandered to the window, where Bartholomew and Terrence were still looking outside to see if what'd they'd seen would reappear. He leaned his shoulder against the bit of wall beside it, his hands thrust in his trouser pockets. The prickling in his nose had completely stopped now. "Wotcher, Spin. Terry."

"Hey, Ted," said Bartholomew and Terrence.  


"Why d'you use that term?" asked Terrence.

"What term?" asked Ted, sensing Rodger coming to stand beside him.

"'Wotcher'."

"Why _not_?"

"It's more common in London, innit?"

"Yeah. But I_ live_ in the London area. South London, actually. And—" Ted smiled slightly, feeling a warm fuzziness inside him that made him forget his irritation with Rodger, with whom he exchanged half a glance "—it happened to be something of a signature greeting of a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

"Who?" asked Bartholomew, tearing himself away from the window like his friend.

"No one you'd have heard of," Ted said dismissively, moving closer to the window to gaze out of it himself.

"Try us."

Ted said nothing.

"Leave him be, guys," he heard Rodger say behind him.

"See you next practice then, Ted. Rodger."

"See you, Spin," said Ted and Rodger.

It was dark out, but the waxing gibbous moon was even brighter tonight, as the full moon approached nearer and nearer. Thoughts of Ted's parents consumed him. He closed his eyes and felt a memory wash over him….

Six-year old Ted was up in his room playing with his plush animals. At the moment, he had his stuffed wolf Rory in one hand and his stuffed black dog Sandy in the other. They were his two favorite toys, and in his world, they were the best of friends that went on adventures together. "Catch me if you can, Sandy!" he said, pretending it was Rory talking. He ran them along the edge of the bed so that Sandy was "chasing after" Rory. "Slow down, Rory!" he cried, now pretending it was Sandy talking. "You're going too fast!"

"Teddy!" Andromeda called from downstairs. "Get down here, please!"

"But Grandmummy, I'm busy!"

"Your godfather's here!"

Ted's spirits brightened, his game no longer a priority. "Harry!" he cried. He dropped Rory and Sandy, burst from his room, and bounded down the stairs. He accidentally missed the last stair and fell forward. However, just before he hit the ground, two strong arms caught him and lifted him up.

"Careful there, Teddy!" said Harry, his face glowing with a grin as he set little Ted down back down onto his feet.

"Wotcher, Harry!" laughed Ted. "Hang me upside down! Please, please, please!"

"Teddy, you're getting awfully heavy," chuckled Harry. "Can't we just have tea?"

"Hang me first! Hang me first!" Ted demanded, jumping up and down and raising up his arms.

"Teddy, for goodness' sake, where are your manners?" Andromeda scolded, taking Harry's travelling cloak off from around his shoulders. "Let the man breathe at least."

"It's alright, Andi," said Harry, a mischievous gleam in his green eyes. "Alright then, Ted, I'll hang you. I'll hang you—if you want me to."

"I do! I do!"

"Are you sure you want me to?"

"Yes! Yes! I want you to! I want you to!"

"Alrightee then!"

Ted squealed with fearful delight as Harry swept him up in his arms, flipped him upside down, grasped an ankle in each of his hands, and dangled him upside down in the air. After a minute, which was filled entirely with Ted's laughter, he told Ted that he had to put him right again.

"No! Not yet!" Ted begged. "Please, Harry! Just a bit longer!"

"Ted," Harry laughed, "I've got to! Your face's turning purple!"

"_I'm _doing that Harry! Honest!"

From Ted's position, he saw Harry's upside down face peer at him with an eyebrow raised in speculation. "You wouldn't be fooling me now, would you?"

"Er…. ARGH! Head hurts! Put me down, Harry, quick!"

"Excellent idea, Ted," said Harry, carrying Ted upside down by his ankles to the sofa in the sitting room. Unceremoniously, he flopped him down on the sofa.

"Now tickle me, Harry!" Ted giggled. "Please, please, please!"

"Oh, Teddy," said Andromeda, smiling and shaking her head as she entered the sitting room with a tea tray floating alongside her.

"_Tickle _you?" Harry said in exaggerated disbelief. "You want me to _tickle _you? Well…if you insist…." And with that he attacked Ted with his fingertips, tickling him frantically all along the sides of his stomach.

Only when Ted was breathless with laughter did he gasp, "Okay…! Okay…stop…Harry…! 

Stop…! Ha…ha…ha-ha…!"

Andromeda made sure to set the tea tray somewhere out of harm's way. "Harry, I have to say, I wouldn't have said this six years ago, but I _can _certainly say it now: I think you'd make a wonderful father."

"Thanks, Andromeda," said Harry quietly. In truth, this routine of playing with his godson whenever he came to visit him and Andromeda was very new territory for him. Before Ted, he'd never had experience interacting with a small child. Ted had learned this from Harry himself. Apparently he liked to think of playing with Ted as not only good bonding, but also as good practice for whenever he had kids of his own—_if _he ever had kids of his own.

"And speaking of fatherhood," Andromeda went on, pouring Harry a cup of tea and handing it to him on a china saucer, "how are things with you and Ginny?"

Sensing that the two grown-ups were going to do that boring talking thing, Ted amused himself as he continued to lie on his back on the sofa by swinging his legs in the air and staring at the ceiling, absently tugging at his right ear with his right hand.

"Well, they're going _quite _well, actually," he heard his godfather admit in a tone of embarrassed glee. Next he heard the sound of tea being sipped, and the light chink of a china cup being set back down on its saucer.

"Oh?" Andromeda said expectantly. There was the sound of more tea pouring.

"See, things were a bit slow with my Auror training and _her _training for the Harpies, but now that Ron and I've both been qualified and we've settled into our offices at the Ministry, and Ginny's gotten into the groove of professional Quidditch life, we had a chance to start going out again." He chuckled and Ted heard him sip more tea.

There was a pause, and then Ted heard his grandmother say teasingly, "There's something you're not telling me, Harry. Come now, what is it?"

Again there was the chink of a china cup being set down on a china saucer. "Alright, alright. Well…Ginny and I…. We're engaged."

Andromeda laughed. "And about time, too! Congratulations."

Ted grew bored with swinging his legs in the air and sat up on the sofa to see his grandmother had turned to him inquiringly.

"Teddy, I seem to have forgotten the sugar bowl. Would you go fetch it for me from the kitchen? It's sitting on the counter beside the sink."

Ted sprinted into the kitchen, stepped up his special stepping-stool at the sink, and grabbed the china sugar bowl full of sugar cubes that he sometimes liked to sneak and suck on—though he preferred the taste of chocolate to just plain sugar. However, he was so overzealous in stepping off of his stepping stool that he tripped over his own two feet and fell to the floor with a crash. The sugar bowl fell with a crash too, having slipped from Ted's grip in the fall. It made impact with the floor and shattered into a mess of china shards and sugar the moment it made contact with the wood floorboards.

One shard nearly hit him in the eye, but luckily his worst injury was a shard grazing his right eyebrow. He felt tiny beads of blood form where the shard had hit. In the aftermath, he got up off of his stomach and sat up on his knees. He reached up and felt the tiny amount of blood on his brow, and then regarded the broken china lying amongst the thin covering of sugar everywhere.

Dread dropped through the bottom of his stomach like a dead weight. "Oh no…" he moaned. He eyes stung and welled up with tears: tears for having messed up and broken something—again: tears for the tiny cut in his eyebrow, which was still oozing tiny beads of blood.

This all happened in less than a second, though it seemed longer. Before he knew it, his godfather and his grandmother came through the kitchen door. He looked up at their appalled faces, and knew that he was in for it now. And on top of that, the cut in his eyebrow was starting to sting.

"I'm sorry," he whimpered, and felt the tears gush out of his eyes as he began to cry. "It was—It was an accident…. I'm _really _sorry…."

Harry sighed and took out his wand. Pointing it at the mess on the floor, he muttered, "_Reparo_," and the sugar bowl repaired itself. As he began siphoning the sugar off the floor next, Andromeda had crossed to Ted and knelt beside him.

"Don't you fret, love," she said, "after raising your mum, I've quite grown used to dealing with more-than-constant accidents."

Ted felt her knuckles caress his cheek, light as a breath. He nodded, and wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve. Some of the blood on his brow rubbed off on it.

Andromeda did not fail to notice. "Oh dear, did you get a cut?"

Ted nodded, sniffing, gazing down at the now sugar-free floor. Out of the corner of his eye he saw her take out her wand.

"Let me see where it is," she said.

Ted raised his face.

Andromeda placed the tip of her wand on it, and heard her mutter something and then felt the tingle of his skin rapidly healing good as new. "There we are," she said. She smoothed a few bangs out of his face and smiled demonstratively at him.

TAP-TAP-TAP!

Ted looked over his shoulder at the kitchen sink window and saw the old tawny owl, Ringo. His grandfather was the one who had named him, and apparently he had named him for his favorite band member—the drummer—of an old British Muggle rock 'n' roll foursome called the Beatles, who had been—according to Ted Tonks himself—very popular among Muggles the world over when he'd been a young man, and being Muggle-born, he obviously had a taste for them. That was something Ted always liked about Muggle-borns: they seemed to have the best of both worlds—literally: they were magic, and learned to adapt in the wizarding world, but they also had their "roots" in the Muggle world, and easily came to know their way around in both societies.

From what he could tell, it looked as though Ringo had a letter in his beak. As Andromeda rose to her feet and opened the window to take the letter and give Ringo a treat, Ted glanced around for his godfather, only to see that he had vacated the kitchen. He supposed that after finishing with cleaning up, Harry had gone back into the sitting room.

Getting to his feet as well, he scampered out of the kitchen into the sitting room and saw that Harry had sat down in his seat on the sofa and resumed sipping his tea, gazing absently out the window as he did so.

Ted went over and sat beside him.

Harry looked around at him, seeming to reemerge from his thoughts. He smiled at Ted. "Where's your Grandmum?"

"Ringo brought a letter," said Ted, his eyes focusing upon the small china plate of cookies set on the tea tray. He wanted one, but after what had happened in the kitchen, he didn't feel he deserved it.

Harry seemed to read his mind. "Those biscuits look excellent, don't they?"

"Uh-huh."

While this happened, they heard the sounds of Andromeda in the kitchen taking the letter from Ringo, giving him a treat, breaking the seal on the letter, and now they heard the groan of the stairs as she climbed up them to the second floor of the house.

"Fancy one?" Harry asked, referring to the cookies. "I do." He leaned forward, set his saucer with his tea down on the table, and nabbed a cookie from the plate. He offered it to Ted, who looked up into his godfather's face and reluctantly declined with a shake of his head.

A crease formed between Harry's eyebrows. "Why not?"

"I don't think I should have one," said Ted. He pulled his legs up and hugged his knees, burying his face in them. All he could see now was darkness.

"Now _why _would you think that?" Harry's voice inquired interestedly.

"Because I don't deserve it," said Ted, his voice muffled by his knees.

"Ah…. Because of what just happened?"

"Yes."

"I see." Ted heard him dip the cookie in his tea, take a bite, swallow, and then set it down on his saucer with his cup. And then he chuckled, "Well, there's no doubt you're your dad's kid."

Ted brought his face up from his knees and looked round at Harry. "What d'you mean?"

"Well, he was always saying he didn't deserve good things too. I mean not _always _but…a lot of the time." He cleared his throat and glanced at the kitchen door watchfully.

"Why? He wasn't a bad man, was he?" Ted asked.  


"Oh, good God no, Ted," said Harry, tearing his eyes away from the door. "Definitely not. But...well, he always felt like—like he _was _bad…in a way. And…well, everyone's like that really. I broke lots of rules when I went to school, for instance. Everybody's a little bit bad sometimes but…your dad was...well, he thought he was _really _bad when he wasn't. And he wasn't even the one tripping over everything! Your _mum _was the one doing _that_."

"Was anyone ever bothered about her tripping over stuff all the time?"

Harry took a sip of tea. "'Anyone' who?"

"Anyone in the…in the…." Ted struggled as he tried to remember the name. In the end he settled with, "In the Phoenix Thingy."

"Oh! You mean the _Order _of the Phoenix. Well…er…yeah, but they always tried to be really nice about it. And we could usually tell when she was coming to call at Order headquarters. We'd hear a, 'Wotcher!' followed by the clatter of the umbrella stand as she bumped into it for the umpteenth time, and then Sirius' mum'd start screaming her bleedin' head off." He laughed lightly and wistfully with the memory. "But she was a good person. And even though you're grandmother said she was a Hufflepuff in school, she was as brave as any true Gryffindor." He looked directly into Ted's face. "Your dad was a good person too."

"And he actually _was _a Gryffindor just like you, wasn't he?"

"Yes. He was a Gryffindor right to the very end."

"So he was brave just like you too?"

Harry nodded. "But of course, even Gryffindors see_ something_ when they face a boggart."

"What's a boggart?" Ted asked.

Harry laughed. "Teddy! You know what a boggart is! I told you about them just this past Christmas."

"Yeah, but I forget."

"Ah. Well, in that case: a boggart is something that when you face it, it turns into whatever scares you more than anything."

"Oh." Ted took a moment to process this, and then asked, "What did a boggart look like to my dad then?"

"Er…well, your Grandmum wouldn't like me telling you…she doesn't like talking about your dad much…."

"C'mon, Harry! _Please_?"

"Well, alright…it er...it looked like the full moon, actually."

"The _moon_? What's so scary about the _moon_? I thought you said he was a _brave man_!"

"He _was_. But remember that bravery doesn't mean not being scared."

"Yeah, but why'd he be scared of something silly like the full moon…?"

And now Ted knew why. Full moon meant an ordeal his father had had to deal with on a monthly basis….

His mother had still loved him, despite what he was….

A familiar wave of nostalgic melancholy stole him over, and he felt Rodger's eyes on him.

"Ted?"

Ted looked around at him, and saw that his smoky blue eyes held concern.

"Oh, Rodger!" sang a girl's voice at a table nearby.

Ted and Rodger looked over to see a small group of fifth year girls smiling and giggling flirtatiously.

"Would you help us translate this rune?" asked a brunette by the name of Cecilia Bell, batting her eyelashes. "We can't seem to suss this nasty little devil out."

Rodger glanced at Ted.

"Go on," said Ted, punching Rodger playfully on the shoulder and managing what he hoped was an encouraging grin. "The birds want their dose of Rodger tonight."

"You're okay?" Rodger asked.

"I'm _fine_. Go on, go on."

Rodger glanced once back at him over his shoulder as he went over to where Cecilia and her friends were sitting. He turned away when he reached them, and as Ted returned to gazing out the window, he heard Rodger say in his smooth, charming tone, "So, ladies, what appears to be the trouble then, eh…?"

Ted looked up at the fuller gibbous moon rising behind the trees of the Forbidden Forest. If he didn't know any better, he might have thought it was speaking words of comfort to him….

He sighed and moved away from the window. En route to the sofa in front of the fireplace to collect his things and head up to bed early, he took one last glance at the window behind him. He half-tripped, as his foot caught on the leg of the sofa, but because he'd been walking, he managed to steady himself before falling completely face forward onto the floor.

While jogging up the stairs to the dorm, he slipped on the stone steps halfway to the top. The moment he felt gravity drag him down, the first thought that came to mind, for some reason, was, _Wingardium leviosa_! which was pointless to try and use on himself in order to prevent his painful tumble down the stairs, as he did not have his wand out—not that he would've had time to whip it out anyway. Yet, to his mild surprise, his falling stopped abruptly the moment he thought of this incantation. He floated for a few seconds, and then landed lightly on the flat of his feet on the stone step, entirely unscathed. Casting it aside as 

a fluke, he continued jogging up the stairs. Again he slipped. Again he thought, _Wingardium leviosa_! This time, however, he found himself a second later, sprawled on the stone steps with an immensely sharp pain in his hands and knees.

In his bed in the dark dormitory, Ted's consciousness descended further into the relaxed realm of sleep. For about an hour he remained in the deepest stage of sleep: stage four. And then his mind churned, steadily at first. His brain waves remained slow as Ted reentered the third stage of sleep. With a sudden, infinitesimal burst of electrical activity, his mind returned to the second stage. Ted began to hear voices. Colors and shapes moved and shifted. The darkness of his eyelids filled with fuzzy light, as he made the crossing into R.E.M. sleep.

_"Here, I'll hold him, Dora."_

_Teddy's nose started prickling, but it was ticklish. He didn't know why, but it made him smile. _

_"Dora! Dora, look! I think he's smiling!"_

_"Really?" A woman's excited face appeared. "Oh, Remus! Hang on! Keep him smiling, I wanna get a picture!"_

_The man laughed. "I'll try!"_

_Teddy's nose prickled, and prickled. He liked this man beaming down at him. His nose always prickled to see him. And the woman who fed him, he liked her too, her and the funny things she did with her face that no one else did—it didn't scare him at all. He sneezed as the prickling in his nose went on and on…._

_The world swirled in a haze of color and shape._

_"Remus! Tonks!"_

_"Kingsley?"_

_"What's going on?"_

_"We've received an alert from the D.A.—"_

_"The what?"_

_"You know, that thing Harry started—"_

_"Oh, right! Well, what's the alert?"_

_"There's trouble at Hogwarts—You-Know-Who—"_

_"Voldemort's on his way to Hogwarts?"_

_"That's the word. C'mon, Remus, they need all the help they can get…."_

_"Dora, love…I would feel better if you and Teddy were staying with your mother while I'm away."_

_"Why?"_

_"I'll think you'll be safer where it's not just you and Teddy alone. And when you get there, I want you to stay there, understand?"_

_"But Remus, what if—?"_

_"_Please_, Dora. If something happened to you…."_

_"Alright then…."_

_"Look, Ted, I'm taking a picture of you with me for good luck!"_

_Teddy saw something in the man's smiling eyes…it was scary. He reached up to the man with a sudden, urgent desire to be held._

_The man scooped him up into his arms. "Come on now, Ted, chin up."_

_Teddy liked the man patting him on the back and the sound of his voice. It soothed him. He buried his prickling nose in the man's shoulder. _

_"Remus…."_

_"I know, I know, King. I'm coming." He gave Teddy to the woman. "Be good for Mummy, okay, Ted? And no matter what, just remember that Daddy loves you…."_

_"Remus…Remus, please be careful…please…."_

_"I will…I promise…. I love you so much, darling…."_

_The prickle started to disappear…._

_"Mum, I know what I'm doing!"_

_"He told you to stay put!"_

_"I can't stand not knowing whether he's dead or alive!"__"But what about Teddy, huh? What about your _son_…?"__"Be good for Grandmum, now, alright Teddy? And no matter what, just remember that Mummy loves you too. Daddy and I'll see you when the sun comes up, I promise…."_

_No! Don't go! _Ted sat bolt upright in bed, breathing hard, his mouth dry, and his hand outstretched in front of him, trying to grab onto something that wasn't there.


	8. Mapmaking

**Chapter Eight**

**Mapmaking**

Ted awoke early the next morning. He was nervous about meeting Victoire in Hogsmeade after lunch that afternoon, and couldn't bear to eat any breakfast. Outside a light rain was sprinkling, and while Rodger and the others went down to the Great Hall, Ted remained curled up on his bed, reading his father's journal from 1975….

* * *

They decided as an ensemble to call themselves the Marauders.

Shortly after Remus was dubbed the nickname, Moony, a nickname was spontaneously coined for Peter one day in their usual spot between the fireplace and the window in the Gryffindor common room. It was a day after the October full moon, and Peter was in the middle of complaining about his tail.

"You nearly _stepped_ on it, James!" he moaned. "With your big heavy hoof!"

"I'm not one to squish things for fun," said James defensively, "but I didn't think it'd be a big deal—"

"Not a big _deal_?" Peter squealed. "You'd have broken bones for sure!"

"I only _thought _it wasn't because I'd _thought _it was a _worm_, not your _tail_!"

"He's got a point, you know," said Sirius, who had grown weary of trying to write his brilliant transfiguration essay and was now doodling idly on a bit of scrap parchment. "Your tail _does _look like a _worm_. And in the dark, it's hard to tell the difference. It's not James' fault you've got a…a _worm _tail."

Peter retorted, but Remus wasn't listening anymore. He was following his own train of thought, also weary of working on his own brilliant transfiguration essay. He was lazily scratching his chin with the end of his pheasant feather quill, falling into another one of his spells of deep rumination. Unaware of the squabble ensuing between James and Peter, he said, "That's a clever one, Sirius," still gazing off into space.

The others looked around at him, and he in turn, looked at them.

"What?" said Sirius. He exchanged confused glances with Peter and James before looking back at Remus. "What's a good one, Moony?"

Remus laughed, laid down his quill on his unfinished essay, and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. "What you just said."

"What, when he told me and James to shut up or else he'd hex us?" Peter asked, throwing Sirius a scowl.

"You two were getting a little out of hand, even for _my_ taste," Sirius explained hastily, sounding slightly injured. "I was just trying to make sure you didn't let slip about Moony's…er…."

"Furry little problem," James put in.

"No, the other thing you said," said Remus, his smile growing wider. Speaking directly to Peter, he added, "_Wormtail_, would you be so kind, as to pass me my bag?"

"Er…you're talking to _me_?" Peter inquired tentatively.

"Yes." Remus caught the eyes of James and Sirius, and saw that they were grinning broadly too, understanding him now.

As Peter picked up Remus' bag and handed it to him over the table, James said, "Listen, Wormtail, I really am sorry I nearly crushed you. I swear I'll try to be more careful next time. Truce?" He held out his hand to Peter.

Peter took it slowly. "Er, truce," he said as they shook.

"Well, that's settled then," said Sirius pleasantly. "And, Wormtail, you know I'd never hex _any _of you. Especially you. It'd crush me to do it."

"Guys, I dunno if I like this," said Peter, getting the gist.

"Sorry, Wormtail, but I'm afraid it's just too clever," said Sirius. He and Remus exchanged fleeting glances.

"Thanks a lot, Moony," Peter muttered, getting back to work on his own transfiguration essay, which unfortunately for him, wasn't quite so brilliant.

* * *

The following full moon in November was chilly and wet from the rain.

Yet even in the squishy, muddy grounds Sirius and Remus were the princes of stealth, because of the padding on their feet. As a werewolf, Remus looked like a normal black wolf, but with some extreme alterations: besides the hunch in his back, his black fur was coarser, almost spike-like, and he was half a wolf bigger than a normal wolf, which meant his paws and claws were larger too.

Sirius however also had the advantage of his slightly smaller size.

Peter could be heard scurrying through the mud on his tiny paws, and because their hearing was more acute as animals, it made it all the easier for them to hear him.

James was loudest, plonking through the mud with his cloven hooves.

By now they had already discovered the secret passageway between the statue of the one-eyed witch and the cellar of Honeydukes. Last full moon, Peter had sneaked into there for chocolate and stumbled upon it. They had also discovered other passageways and secrets of Hogwarts, both before, after, and during the full moon.

Tonight, out on the grounds, as they were exploring near the lake, Sirius and Remus snuck up on James and Peter. Sirius pounced on James and brought him down to the ground, where he sprawled on top of him, and both of them were laughing. It was a good thing no one was watching, because it would have looked very odd to see a stag lying on the ground and comfortably allowing a big black dog to lay on top of it right after the dog had jumped it.

Remus' play was a bit more convincing. He bore down on a cowering Peter, his huge lupine grin made sinister by his rows of sharp, pointed teeth.

Aaaaaaaah! James! Sirius! Help! Peter screamed. He's turning on us! Moony's turning on us! Aaaaaaaah!

Pipe down, Wormtail! laughed James, who still had Sirius lying on top of him. Moony and Padfoot are only fooling.

Wait, what? Who's Padfoot? Peter squeaked.

I think…Sirius…is Padfoot…Wormtail, said Remus, whose human thoughts were still somewhat broken, as his friends' inexplicable influence on him didn't cause him to retain his human mind completely—it only made it possible to do so, provided that he made the effort to keep it that way. Looking down at the still-cowering Peter, he added as hastily as he could, Oh…er…you can…get up…really…I won't hurt you.

Oh, er…thanks, said Peter, rolling over from off of his back and onto his feet. He scurried out of Remus' shadow, stood on his hind legs, wringing his front paws, and addressed James and Sirius. Since when is Sirius Padfoot?

Yeah, since when _am _I Padfoot? Sirius asked, getting up off of James.

James rose and stood tall in his male cervine form, though his whole right side was covered in mud. His antlers showed pale in the moonlight. Your padded feet, he said to Sirius, gazing down at him with his hazel eyes. Moony's got them too, but Moony works better for _his_ case. Besides, you can manage stealth a little better than he can.

I like it, said Sirius, tilting his head, wagging his tail, and panting with his tongue lolling out the side of his seemingly smiling canine mouth. Bit fluffy, but I like it. Better than Fido, anyway.

* * *

"Well, if we all have nicknames, James ought to have one too," said Remus two days later as they marched across the still wet and muddy grounds to care of magical creatures with Professor Kettleburn.

"How about Horny?" Sirius suggested.

James' jaw dropped. "What! No way! Padfoot, you can be such a pervert sometimes!"

"But you get that way whenever Lily Evans is around," Sirius taunted playfully in a sing-song voice. "Doesn't he, you guys?"

"Shut your gob, I _do not_," James grumbled, looking around nervously as if afraid that Lily might have been close enough to hear them. At the same time he was ruffling his hair so 

that it took on the windswept appearance of one who'd just gotten off their broom: a habit he'd inexplicably picked up sometime at the beginning of the term.

Remus, however, had a theory as to the reason he'd started doing it. "Just because James fancies Lily doesn't mean he gets _horny_ whenever he sees her," he said bitterly.

"What's gotten into _you_, Moony?" Sirius asked.

"Nothing," Remus lied. Desperately he moved the subject of conversation away from Lily. "Anyway, it wouldn't work. He hasn't got _horns_, he's got _antlers_."

"How about Hoofstomp, then?" Peter proposed.

"That's a bit obvious, Wormtail."

"Well, I didn't _know _we were going for subtlety, Padfoot. What about something like…Pronghorn, or—"

"No 'horn'," said James at once.

"Fine. Prong. No, _Prongs_. Sounds better in plural."

While James thought it over, Sirius asked Peter, "_Prongs_, Wormtail? Where'd you come up with _that _one?"

"The pronghorn antelope," said Peter, shrugging.

"I like it," said James, his mood evidently brightening. "Prongs it is! Thanks, Wormy!"

Peter groaned.

Remus contemplated him a moment as they joined the fifth year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs gathering at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Sometimes he wondered if Peter was a little smarter than he let on.

* * *

TAP-TAP-TAP!

A jolt went through Ted as he finished reading the last entry in the 1975 journal, causing it to slip from his hands and fall into his lap. He picked it up and slipped it back into the box between 1974 and 1976 before jogging over to the window to let in the Potters' family owl, a great-horned named Tristan. He managed to smack his nose on the window as he opened it. Eyes streaming, he untied the letter from Tristan's leg while Tristan perched patiently on the windowsill. He tore it open and recognized Harry's penmanship:

_2 May 2015_

_Dear Ted,_

_Ginny, the kids, your grandmum, and I are coming next Saturday for your final Quidditch match! Surprise! I hope you don't mind. If anything, the kids really want to see you play. As do Ginny and I. From what I've heard, you'd have given Fred and George a run for their money. I wish you could have met Fred. George is still a laugh of course, but he and Fred were like a double-act being twins, and it just isn't the same without him. And then George besides isn't quite like his old self anyway. It really is true what they say about there being a connection between identical twins, and when one of them dies, that connection gets severed (bit like me and Voldemort, except more normal and less perverted), and if feels like there's something missing: an empty, vacuous spot. (And trust me, getting rid of Voldemort hardly made me feel like I was missing something. If anything I felt more whole than I ever have in my entire life.)._

_Anyway, I was also wondering how much "discovering" you've been able to do in that box. I assume that by now you've learnt what your father was. I'd like to hear from you what else you've found out though. You can say as much or as little as you want, but after I'd given you the box, I realised that I wondered about your dad's whereabouts during the times I didn't see him. I mean I kind of knew Sirius': before I met him he lived in his parents' house, then went to school with your dad and my dad, and then fought with them for the Order, and after that was in Azkaban, then during my fourth year he was on the run but I saw him in secret once and kept in contact with him through letters (he wanted to keep a close eye on me during the Triwizard Tournament), and after the return of Voldemort he was holed back up in his parents' house of course, until, you know, when he left it to save me and my friends, and his dear cousin Bellatrix murdered him. _

_You and I have something in common with that woman. Both of us had loved ones murdered by her hand—for me it was Sirius, for you it was your mum. But thank God YOU never had to meet the likes of her. She was a nasty piece of work. Blood meant nothing to her. I know you loathe the idea that she was your great-aunt, but also remember that your mother was her niece, Sirius was her cousin (and also, I think, YOUR cousin twice removed, or something like that), and your mother and Sirius were good people right to the very end. Not to mention your grandmum was her sister, and there's no doubt in the world that SHE'S a good person as well (got a bit of the Black family temper but otherwise a good person). Actually, even your great-aunt Narcissa isn't all bad, because in the end she and your great-uncle Lucius kind of realised they cared more about what happened to their son, Draco (your second (?) cousin), than whether or not Voldemort won the war. _

_Right, now I'm rambling about the past. Again. _

_Well anyway, don't say anything to me about those answers I gave you when we come to visit though, even when we're alone. I don't want your grandmum finding out I'm breaking my word giving you all this stuff about your dad, and there is the chance she might overhear us even when we think we aren't being overheard. It'd be better if we did this via owl post. _

_See you next Saturday! And if we don't see you before the game starts, I'd like to wish you luck in advance. Your grandmother sends her love. _

_Harry_

Ted couldn't understand why, but reading Harry's letter sparked a tiny flame of ire inside of him. Perhaps it was because he'd already been feeling mildly incensed with his godfather before this letter from him even arrived, from the moment he read the account of how James received the nickname, Prongs.

Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs: his instincts hadn't been incorrect at all. He'd been right ever since he found out in the journal that his father's nickname had been Moony, and that he and his friends had started calling themselves, the Marauders: they _were _the same Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs from the Marauder's Map. Even if the map hadn't been mentioned (yet), the fact that they called themselves the Marauders was a dead giveaway.

The memory of when Harry had given him the Marauder's Map burned in Ted's mind….

_"Wow, Harry! This map is brilliant! Where'd you get it?"_

_"I've had it. Fred and George had it before they gave it to me. And they'd nicked it from Filch's office their first year."_

_"That was nice of them."_

_"That'd be them."_

_"How does it work again?"_

_"You tap it with your wand, and say, 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.'"_

_"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good. Cool!" _

_"And don't forget, when you're done, you give it another tap with your wand and say, 'Mischief managed'. Otherwise anyone can read it. And anyone could be someone you don't _want _reading it."_

_"Alright... Harry, who are Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? They the ones who made this?"_

_"I expect so."_

_"Are these their _real_ names?"_

_"Oh, I seriously doubt it, Ted."_

_"Do you _know _them?"_

_"We've met." _

_"Really?"_

_"Yeah, but I—I met them—well, I met two before I got the map, and afterwards I met the __other two."_

_"What were their real names?"__"Didn't ask them their names when I met them. I…er…didn't know they'd made the map until after I'd met the last two. I believe they were just a bunch of school troublemakers from years back_…. _They're all dead now…. Ah, Andromeda! Didn't see you there. By the way, those cauldron cakes of yours were just excellent…." _

Oh yes, that fit too, Ted thought as he began to pace the length of the dorm, back and forth, clutching the letter tightly in his hand. They _were _all dead. Harry's father, then Sirius, then Pettigrew, and then _his _father…. And Harry had never told him! He'd lied then! Lied about not knowing their names!

But then his grandmother had made Harry promise not to tell Ted. Harry had at least given him the map….

Yet what harm could there have been in at least telling him his father had helped make the map while he was a boy at Hogwarts? He wouldn't have had to tell him that he was a werewolf to tell him that…. And now, _he _was expectedto tell _Harry _things? Well…he could _forget _that!

"Ted?"

Ted whipped around and saw Rodger standing in the doorway. He saw Rodger's contented expression change to one of slight concern.

"Ted?" he repeated, this time with anxiety.

"What?" Ted said coldly, going over and stashing Harry's letter in the drawer of his bedside table. He glanced at Rodger and saw that he'd fixed the letter with a questioning gaze, but appeared to be biting back a query about it.

"How—How are you?" he asked, looking up at Ted again. "You wouldn't come down for breakfast. You still nervous 'bout this afternoon?"

"No," Ted lied brusquely. He did not want Rodger there with him right now. Right now he wanted to kick something and not stop until he'd caused it serious damage.

"What's got your wand in a knot, then?"

"Nothing."

Rodger leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and folded his arms over his chest. "Not buying that, mate."

Ted knew that Rodger was only trying to help. And he shouldn't take his anger out on him. He had a bad habit of taking his anger out on people who didn't deserve to have it taken out on them. Andromeda always told him he had that "Black family temper" that was just mentioned in Harry's letter. And from what _little _Harry had said, his father had been the complete opposite, rarely losing his temper, and only once had he lost it with Harry…and of course Ted had asked what his father had been so infuriated about…and of _course _Harry had told him he _couldn't _tell him…as _usual_….  


That last thought of Harry made it unbearable for him to hold in his frustration. "He lied to me!" he exclaimed furiously, throwing his hands up in the air. "He _lied _to me!"

"Who?" Rodger inquired calmly.

Ted faced Rodger. "_Harry_!" he moaned. "My _godfather_, _Harry_! He _lied _to me!"

"What about?"

"The Marauder's Map!"

"The one _he _gave you for your twelfth?"

"Yeah. I just found out in my dad's journal: my _dad_ was Moony!"

Rodger's eyes widened in surprise. "Really?"

"And _Harry's _godfather Sirius was Padfoot, and _his father_ was Prongs, and Peter Pettigrew was Wormtail!"

"Who's Peter Pettigrew?"

"Nobody," said Ted, shaking off the question like an annoying fly. He began pacing again in his distress. "He _told _me he never knew their names! Ha! Like _hell_ he _didn't_!" At that moment all his anger peaked, and then fizzled out in one fell swoop. He felt slightly drained, and stopped his pacing to sit on the edge of his bed, wrapping his arms around the post at the end of it, leaning against it, feeling he might otherwise collapse onto the floor in a heap. He didn't know what to feel now. He looked up at Rodger, who was still watching him with concern from the doorway. "My grandmum made him promise not to tell me things about my father, because my father was a werewolf. At least, I _think _that's the reason. Anyway, I mean…sure the map has a distant connection with his lycanthropy, I mean it led to certain events that led to the map being made…I haven't actually read that they made it yet, but I'm positive they did…. But he still could've managed to tell me my father had helped make the map and left it at that, couldn't he've?"

Rodger shrugged. "I guess so, mate."

For a while, neither of them spoke, nor moved. Ted stared at a patch of carpet near Rodger's feet, still clinging to the bedpost with his arms wrapped around it. He remembered Andromeda had been in the room at the time when Harry had given him the map. Perhaps he was being cautious. His grandmother obviously kept Harry under the radar, feeling he couldn't be completely trusted not to let something slip. In fact, Ted was sure that Harry had wanted nothing more than to right out tell him that both their fathers had been co-writers of the Marauder's Map. And Harry hadn't _actually _said he didn't know their real names…he'd only said he'd _never asked _them.

And it was possible he hadn't.

When he'd met his father, it would have been when he was born, and obviously he couldn't have asked his name then. So he'd learned his name from other people.

He had not asked Sirius' name. He'd already known his name from the newspapers long 

before he'd met him in person.

He had also not asked for Peter's—he'd already learned his name from overhearing a conversation between Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Madam Rosmerta, Rubeus Hagrid, and former minister of magic, Cornelius Fudge, in the Three Broomsticks pub in Hogsmeade.

And then Harry had mentioned to Ted before about meeting Ted's father on the train to Hogwarts for that one year that he had taught as defense against the dark arts teacher, and Hermione had worked out his surname from his briefcase, which had been labeled, "Professor R. J. Lupin", and later on learned through usage by other people that the R stood for Remus, and the J for John. Ted also recalled that right after Harry had told him this, his grandmother had walked into the room with an, "A_hem_!" to Harry, informing him that Ginny had wanted a word with him about something. Ted now realized that that excuse had just been a ploy to keep Harry from saying anything more. Apparently Andromeda was _that _paranoid about Ted discovering that his father had been a lycanthrope.

At any rate, the point was that in reality, Harry had never _technically_ asked any of them for their names, so he hadn't _technically_ been lying when he'd told him that he hadn't asked them.

Ted sighed and looked up at Rodger, who had remained leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded. "Well, what're you up to now?" he asked wearily.

Rodger blinked, and then said, "Er…well, I'd just finished breakfast and er…." The color rose in his cheeks. Was he _embarrassed_?

For the first time that morning, Ted grinned, and what was more it was his puckish one. "Rodger…?" he inquired slyly.

Rodger lowered his eyes to his feet as he shuffled them uncertainly. "I just came up to tell you that…er…well…." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Cecilia Bell's invited me to go for a walk with her around the lake."

Ted laughed. "And you said, 'Yes, _please_!', I assume?"

"Basically," Rodger mumbled.

It was then Ted realized that his friend's oddly meek behavior while speaking of the opposite sex was genuine. "Rodger, you've had _tons_ of girlfriends _before_. Sure things haven't always worked out but—"

"Ted, I _chucked _every last one of them?"

Ted shook his head. "No, that's not possible, mate. One of them had to have chucked _you_. What about Rosalind Goldstein?"

"Chucked her. She was my _first_."

"Josie Corner?"

"Ted, I sacked it off with her at the weekend before Christmas in fifth year, remember?"

"Oh, right. Well, what about Naomi Creevey?"

"Okay, so that was a two-week fling, and we _both _just sort of fell apart, but _technically _it was _my _idea to fall apart in the first place."

"Ah. So, what's the story on her little sister, Wylla, then?"

"Bin-bagged her, Ted! Can't you remember _that _one? She slapped me in front of everyone in the Gryffindor common room!"

"Oh, yeah…. But what about your last one, Zoey Kipling? I thought she sent you a Dear John."

"Actually…it was more of a Dear _Jane_...if you get my meaning…."

"You mean _you _wrote _her _about sacking it off?"

Rodger nodded guiltily.

"God, you really _have _chucked every last one of 'em. Still, I dunno what you're climbing the walls for though."

"Well what if I _chuck Cecilia_? I don't think I can _do _that, mate…."

"Then _don't chuck _her then." Then Ted realized something, and he laughed again. "Rodger, don't tell me that you—_you_—have just taken a fancy to a girl you actually _care _about?"

Rodger said nothing. He gazed out the window a moment with an anguished expression, and then said, "Well, I've got to go…er…meet her…I don't want to be late…. See you later."

"See you later," said Ted, as Rodger disappeared from the dorm, closing the door behind him. He looked out the window, and saw that Tristan was still sitting on the windowsill. Quickly he pulled out parchment, ink, and quill, and scribbled a hasty note to Harry, glad that he no longer felt angry with him, though he still felt bad about it all the same:

_Dear Harry,_

_Thanks for the letter. I'm really glad you all are coming for the Final. And don't tell anyone, but I've got a date this afternoon with Victoire Weasley. I'll tell you how it went. If it goes well, I might not bother you with detail. If it doesn't then I'll have a lot of questions to ask you about what in the world I did wrong. _

_Give Grandmum my love._

_Ted_

After he sent Tristan off with his reply to Harry, he glanced at his father's watch, which he now wore regularly with a sense of pride. According to the timepiece, it was three of nine. It had stopped raining and the sun was shining outside, the drops of rain on the trees in the Forbidden Forest glistening like rhinestones. A beautiful day for a romantic afternoon.

Too bad it still gave Ted butterflies in his stomach.

Hoping to calm his nerves, he pulled out Remus' 1976 journal from the ANSWERS box, stretched out on his bed, and began to read….

* * *

They had started to forget where things were. In the month of January shortly after the Christmas holidays, they began arguing about where the secrets they'd discovered in the castle and grounds during and in between full moon were, exactly.

"The fruit painting's this way!" Peter insisted in a whisper.

It was around midnight, and the four Marauders were under James' Invisibility Cloak, trying to find the secret entrance to the kitchens. They knew it was the painting of the fruit, but _where _it was they couldn't recall for sure.

"No, it's _this _way, you berk!" Sirius argued, tugging the cloak in the direction opposite the one in which Peter was tugging it.

"Stop it, both of you!" James hissed. "You rip this and I swear I'll rip _you_!"

Sirius and Peter stopped pulling the cloak in their different directions and stood nearer to James and Remus.

"We really need a map," said Remus. "One of the school and the grounds, you know?"

"Too bad Hogwarts is Unplottable," grumbled Sirius. "Even on a wizarding map."

"We'll have to draw up our _own _then, won't we?" said James. "Hey! Look! The painting was right in front of us the whole time!"

As they tucked into goodies brought to them by the eager Hogwarts house-elves in the kitchens, Remus, who was not eating nearly as much as the others were, picked up his wand and began drawing in the air.

"What're you doing?" Peter asked before popping a cream puff into his mouth.

"It's a drawing of our path from Gryffindor tower to here," said James.

"It's perfect," said Sirius when Remus had finished his rough sketch floating in midair.

"It's not to scale," said Remus, "but it's a start. I only wish I could save it somehow, for future reference…."

"I think if we use Priori Incantatem," said Sirius, "then one of us can just use it on your 

wand with our own and make it spit out a copy of it."

The next day they drew rough sketches of maps to every class as they went to them. As soon as they got there, one of them—they took turns—drew it on a spare bit of parchment during the lesson, while it was still fresh in their minds.

"What's this then, Mister Pettigrew?" Professor Slughorn asked Peter in potions later that morning.

"Er…."

"It doesn't look like the recipe for the Draught of Peace, to me."

"Er…it's er…."

"I'll have that then," said Slughorn, confiscating the bit of parchment on which Peter had been scribbling their path to the dungeons hastily instead of working on making his Draught of Peace.

Peter glanced apologetically at the other three. James and Remus shrugged sympathetically back, and Sirius smacked his forehead with his hand.

Slughorn glanced over at their cauldrons: all four of them were emitting sickly green vapors.

"Mister Potter? Mister Black? Mister Lupin?" he said. "Forgive me, but it seems you are making about as much progress as Mister Pettigrew here."

"We're sorry, sir," the four boys said as one.

"Try looking back at the recipe—I believe you may have forgotten the moonstone." He proceeded to the row behind them. "Ah! Now, these are what _I _call Draughts of Peace! See here everyone! Miss Evans and Mister Snape have done it outstandingly! I daresay they'll be scoring an O on their potions O.W.L.!"

Everyone turned in their seats to see Slughorn standing beside Lily and Severus. Lily was smiling rather shyly, but Severus threw James a smug little smirk.

"Ruddy pumpkin-head, isn't he?" he growled under his breath when class was dismissed, watching Lily and Severus leaving the room together as they packed up their things.

At lunch in the Great Hall, Severus drifted over from the Slytherin table, apparently en route to have a chat with Lily. "What are you scheming _now_, Potter?" he sneered, peering over James' shoulder as James was quickly resketching the way to the dungeons.

"None of your beeswax, Snivellus," said James through gritted teeth.

It was times like these that Remus seemed to remember he had a gleaming prefect badge pinned to his robes. He stopped eating and remained completely still, with only his eyes moving as he glanced from James—who sat with his back to Severus—then Sirius—who faced Severus with a loathsome glare—and then Peter—who appeared anticipatorily excited as usual.

"It's a map, isn't it?" Severus seemed to glow. "A map so you can sneak around even _more _easily. I'll have you chucked out of school for this, Potter…." Remus saw a manic gleam in his eyes.

His and Severus' gazes met haphazardly, and Remus quickly looked away, but Severus advanced on him from where he stood on the other side of the table.

"You're in for it too, Lupin," he said quietly. "You've been ignoring your prefect duties for your mates here, and that's not equal justice now, is it? And…I think I've worked out your little secret too…though how you got into Hogwarts without telling anyone…."

"What are you on about?" James snarled, turning to face Severus at last beside Sirius.

"Well, everyone seems to think Loopy here's got a badly tempered rabbit, but _I_ have a better theory about his _furry little problem_," Severus said softly. "Just wait until I get some proof to back it up."

Remus glanced up and saw Severus' black eyes boring into him. Every muscle tensed, and he glanced around the Gryffindor table at the people sitting nearby, and saw that most of them weren't aware of what was going on. So far, they'd kept their voices low and civil enough not to draw attention. The only one watching as a bystander was Lily….

Their eyes met briefly, before Remus glanced away. The heat that rose to his cheeks from the beauty of her green eyes had been too much, and he couldn't let her see him blush. But in the split-second that their gazes had locked, Remus thought he had read something like fear in her, though for what, he could not be certain.

He looked up at Severus again.

Severus smiled, and said, his voice barely above a whisper, "You fancy prowls by the _full moon_, Loopy?"

Remus gripped the edges of the table, his knuckles turning as white as his face.

James and Sirius whipped out their wands, and green light exploded from both and hit Severus, who was too late in reacting to them. Wide-eyed, he fell back on the stone floor, his face tinged with green.

"Sev!" Lily leapt off her seat and knelt beside him on the ground.

Remus rose to his feet along with Peter to look over the table at what Sirius and James had done to Severus.

Severus struggled to sit up, his sallow face turning greener. Then in one swift motion he grabbed his stomach and threw himself forward onto his hands and knees just before he puked out three large, green, slimy slugs.

Everyone around them recoiled.

Lily threw James a look of loathing over her shoulder that was just about as nasty as those slugs.

"If looks could kill, Prongs…" Sirius began, his voice gradually rising in a comical falsetto.  


"Shut up, Padfoot," James growled. It seemed the only time James every got genuinely angry or annoyed with Sirius was when the subject of Lily arose.

But it never lasted long. They had to stick together. Now of all times, as Professor McGonagall approached to inform them of another detention they'd be spending.

* * *

"Remus! Remus!"

Remus, who had been walking alone back from the library on the night of James and Sirius' detention, recognized the voice calling for him from behind at once. He stopped and remained still for a split-second, while his heart skipped a beat, before he turned to face Lily, who had finally caught up with him.

"Hi," she said breathlessly.

"Hi," said Remus quietly, as Lily took a moment to catch her breath. He realized that he felt as if he'd been running as well, for he was becoming nearly just as breathless.

She looked up at him with her brilliant green eyes, and his heart thudded so fast he wondered if she could hear it.

"I wanted to talk to you," she said softly. "About the other day…."

Remus' mind began to wander as he became aware of a curiosity of what it would be like to touch her cheek with the tips of his fingers. He mentally shook himself, forcing his brain to concentrate on her words.

"About what other day?" he asked.

Lily turned her head and allowed some of her dark red hair to hide her face as she averted his gaze. Remus fought the impulse to gently pull the hair aside like a curtain and tuck it behind her ear.

"That day…er…Potter and Black placed that hex on Severus that made him chuck slugs," she murmured. Her green eyes emerged from behind the veil of red hair as she raised her chin. She tucked the hair behind her ear and blinked up at him.

Remus was rendered speechless for a twinkling, before he cleared his throat and asked hastily, "Er…why did you er…wanna talk to me about that?"

"Well, I just wanted you to know that I'm really sorry Severus got after you like that," Lily explained quickly. "And I swear I didn't tell him a thing. I've kept my promise to you not to tell anyone, not even him. He's just…you know…gone and worked it out on his own because…he's a bit obsessed with your whereabouts every month. Black's, Potter's, and Pettigrew's too, for that matter."

Remus was so overwhelmed with gratitude he was lost for words yet again. The fact that after four or five years of knowing each other—though barely speaking to each other—she had kept that promise to him as if they'd been closer to each other than she and Severus had ever seemed to be—and he still could not understand what she saw in him—it all provoked a panging sensation inside his core that went deeper than mere fondness. It grew rapidly now, and an animalistic hunger rose up and clawed at his heart with a burning intensity. He was on the verge of doing one of two things: either rearing his head back and howling like the wolf he became on a monthly basis, or cupping Lily's perfect face in his hands and pressing his lips to hers, opening his mouth and feeling his way inside of her with his tongue….

"Remus?" Lily tilted her head, her fine brows drawn together.

Remus gasped and quickly regained control of his senses. "I—" he began, the adrenaline pumping in his veins causing him to quaver. "Th-Thank you."

"For what?"

"F-For not—not telling," he stammered. He wished he could say more, form the words that would tell her exactly how much it meant to him that she'd kept her word to him, how much his insides ached for something he knew he would receive at least a tiny portion of if he could only touch her…just for a moment…. But all he could manage however was, "I-I knew you wouldn't."

She looked away again, but this time he was sure he'd seen a smile, and the color rise in her cheeks…. "You're welcome," she said mellifluously.

Remus trembled and waited, unable to move or speak, as if his ability to function all depended on Lily now. Yet in the mixture of the turmoil of turbulent emotions churning inside him, another added itself to the brew: fear. He grew afraid that she would get angry with him for some reason—any reason—and in that he found the will to move and speak on his own again. "I—I have to go," he blurted out, and turning tail he ran down the corridor, and didn't stop until he'd passed through the portrait hole and was safe inside the fifth year boys' dormitory of Gryffindor tower.

* * *

It turned out that if James had been a Muggle, he would have made a brilliant architect.

He had all of their rough sketches of different places in the castle floating around him in midair as he sat on his bed, drawing a perfect, scale reproduction of an overview of the entirety of Hogwarts castle and grounds. Remus sat on the edge of his own bed, which was right next to James', and watched him. They were waiting on one last sketch. Sirius had volunteered to do the tunnel leading from the Whomping Willow to the Shrieking Shack, and Hogsmeade, but he had been taking his time doing it, so to speak.

"Where _is _he?" James muttered, waving his wand to make the ring of sketches floating around his head in a circle rotate. After a moment he stopped them, and began referring to the new sketch that now hung directly in front of him. "He said he'd be done a half an hour ago."

As if on cue, the dormitory door flew open, and Sirius burst in with Peter at his heels. He waved a sheet of parchment wildly in his hand. "I've got it!" he exclaimed gaspingly, standing between James' and Remus' beds and leaning against the post at the end of James' for support as he caught his breath. "I've…got…it…finally…right here…all finished…." He took a gulp of air as he handed it to James.

Peter sat beside Remus on the edge of Remus' bed.

"About time," said James, taking the parchment from Sirius. "Now we can finish this thing."

The end result of the map was magnificent. After praising the quality of its hand-drawn craft, the time came to apply it with a few charms for security purposes and such.

The four of them all sat on James' bed and huddled around the map.

Remus tapped the map with his wand and said, "_Confirmo consilium _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and grounds of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

The map shuddered, floated a millimeter off the bed, and then fell back down and lay still. Remus pointed his wand at it again and said, "_Revelite homines_." There was a pause, and then hundreds of black dots appeared all over the map, in the castle and on the grounds. Each dot represented a human being within the school and grounds, and each them was labeled with their name right beside them.

Peter pointed his wand at the map next, and, slightly pale with apprehension, as if he might accidentally set it aflame, said, "_Revelite incantates_." Now the map would tell people using it how to get into the seven secret passageways, and it would also be able to see through forms of magical concealment, such as people in Animagus form, people underneath an Invisibility Cloak or under the influence of a Disillusionment Charm, and the true identities of people using Polyjuice Potions or other methods of disguise.

Then Sirius tapped the map with his wand and said, "_Aperite verbis_: 'I solemnly swear that I am up to no good'." The ink on the map shimmered like obsidian for a moment, and then resumed its usual inky sheen. Sirius glanced sideways at Remus. "You think a prefect like yourself can say _that_? That you're up to no good?"

"Do I have to be telling the truth?" Remus asked.

"You have to say those words if you want to open the map," said Sirius. "But I s'pose you don't have to _mean _them."

"Moony, we've known you for too long not to know that whether or not you want to admit it, you've got a mischievous streak just like the rest of us," said James. "At least, you certainly can't honestly, solemnly swear that you're _not _up to no good, can you?"

Remus had to smile at this. "No, you're right, Prongs: I can't say _that _at all in good conscience."

Sirius laughed. "Then you'll love _this _one, Moony." He pointed his wand at the map again. "And now to close you up. _Claudite verbis_: 'Mischief managed'."

The map wiped itself clean, all traces of ink gone, leaving an entirely blank sheet of parchment.

"Have we covered everything?" asked Peter.

"Not…just…yet," said James, a puckish gleam in his eye. He tapped the map with his own wand. "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." As the map reappeared on the parchment, he glanced around at the other three. "Right, here's what I want you all to do," he instructed, exchanging impish looks with Sirius, "answer this question when it's your turn, and answer it in third person. The question is this: what are your thoughts on Severus Snape? Moony'll go first, then me, then Padfoot, and then Wormtail. And remember, we're going for _insulting _here."

Remus realized what James and Sirius were up to. "You're going to put a special Ridiculing Jinx that'll activate if Severus specifically ever tries opening the map!"

"I thought it'd be a nice touch," said James, grinning more broadly. "I had to work on it some, and read up on the theory, and I had Padfoot help me out on some test parchments until I got it right. Basically it'll be like putting a little bit of yourself into the map. Makes it more personal. Which is the point. The insults are _supposed _to be personal."

"And the way the spell works," Sirius added, "is that you put in your insult, and then when the person you're trying to ridicule tries to pry into whatever you don't want them prying into, it's able to change words in the insult—or _update _it if you will, if the occasion calls for it. Like if one of us talked about Snape being a student, and then say later on in he became a Hogwarts professor—as if _that _would ever happen—but anyway, hypothetically speaking he became one later in life and tried to open it then, the words 'student at Hogwarts' would _update _themselves to 'professor'. Make sense...sort of?"

"Not really," said Peter wearily. "I'm having trouble getting my head around this, to be honest."

"It's a complex jinx," James admitted. "But I couldn't pass up the opportunity."

"So, are we all agreed on this?" Sirius asked.

"I dunno," said Remus slowly. "You two abuse that poor bloke to no end, and if I _weren't _your friend, I'd have a thing or two done about it the next time you ridicule him, openly or otherwise." He was relieved to see looks of slight remorse cross James and Sirius' faces, rather than looks of total resentment.

"Well…yeah," said James. "But c'mon Moony! I don't suppose you remember what he said to you the other day at lunch about prowling by the full moon, do you?"

"I _do _remember, Prongs. Very clearly."

"Moony, the sneaky little git's trying to get your secret out in the open," Sirius put in bracingly. "Can you take that lying down? He was practically insulting _you_!"

"I'd like to see him try and insult Moony when he's a wolf," Peter piped up enthusiastically.

Remus noticed an elfin glimmer flash in Sirius' gray eyes at this, and he didn't like the grin that played at the corners of his mouth.

"_Please_, Moony!" James urged him. "Admit it: you'd like to see him get what's coming to him just as much as _we _would."

Seeing he was going to lose this argument, Remus conceded. "Alright," he sighed.

"Right then," said James, placing the tip of his wand on the map. "Here we go. _Ridete inimicum_ Severus Snape."  


A bright orb of light rose up out of the parchment and floated before them. James signaled Remus with his eyes. Apparently anything spoken aloud would now be taken into account by the spell.

Remus cleared his throat, and searching deep inside himself, thinking back to that day at lunch when he'd taunted him about his secret, found one thing he truly wanted to say to Severus Snape. "Mister Moony presents his compliments to Snivellus, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business." He glanced around at the others, and was heartened to see them all grinning amiably back at him.

The orb glowed brighter, and then dimmed.

Then James took his turn. "Mister Prongs agrees with Mister Moony, and would like to add that Snivellus is an ugly git."

Sirius and Peter struggled not to burst out laughing, and Remus couldn't help but smile wanly.

After the orb glowed bright and then dimmed again, Sirius took his turn. "Mister Padfoot," he began with relish, "would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a student at Hogwarts."

Again, the orb glowed brightly, and then dimmed.

At last it was Peter's turn. "Mister Wormtail bids Snivellus good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slime ball."

For the fourth time, the orb glowed very brightly, and then dimmed.

James pointed his wand at the orb and said, "_Finite incantatem_."

The orb sank back into the parchment and disappeared.

As one all four Marauders erupted with roars of suppressed laughter, and James and Sirius were by far the loudest of them all.


	9. Touch of the Veela

a/n: the song lyrics are from a song called "Chanson d'enfence" from Andrew Lloyd Webber's _Aspects of Love_

**Chapter Nine**

**Touch of the Veela**

Ted had been reading for a while, and realized with slight panic that he'd lost track of the time. His panic increased marginally when he checked the time and saw that he'd already missed half of lunch.

He marked his spot in the 1976 journal, stuck it back in the ANSWERS box, and transfigured that back into a gold Gobstone then stuck the Gobstone in his trouser pocket. He emerged into the Great Hall, looking around the Gryffindor table for Victoire. But he did not see her, and figured she had already eaten and gone to sign out of the castle to go to Hogsmeade, like she said she would, for whatever reason that might be.

Rodger had already eaten as well, but he was still sitting at the Gryffindor table, leafing through a book.

Ted sat down across from him and helped himself to some beef stew, not taking very much as he continued to be nervous about the upcoming events of the afternoon with Victoire in Hogsmeade.

"Nice to see you've crawled out of your cave," said Rodger, not looking up from his reading.

"Nice to see you're none the worse for wear after your rendezvous this morning," Ted replied lightly. "How did that go, by the way?"

A bashful smile crept up on Rodger's face, though he kept his eyes on his book. "It was alright," he said quietly.

Now Ted knew for a fact that Cecilia Bell was having a different effect on Rodger than most girls did. Normally Rodger was one to "kiss and tell", not sparing Ted of a single detail. This time however Rodger's post-date report was meek and mild, and Ted felt a ray of hope that maybe Rodger had at last discovered that there was more to girls than looks.

Although looks weren't a bad thing, he added to himself as he thought again of his own rendezvous with Victoire. The elation was short-lived however, and was soon replaced with the fluttery butterflies in his stomach once more. His hand trembled as he brought his spoonful of stew to his mouth. Chewing and swallowing, he hoped to distract his thoughts from his anxiety by taking a peek at what Rodger was reading.

From what he could see (the text appeared upside down to him, of course) it was a long list of things, but the print wasn't large enough for him to see what the list might contain from where he was sitting across from Rodger. Finally he decided to simply ask, "What're you reading?"

Rodger raised his eyes from the book at last and looked at him. "Er…I borrowed that book you got from the library," he said, closing the book and showing Ted the cover: _Sourcebook on Rare and Common Inborn Abilities _by Michael Corner.

"You mean you _nicked _it," said Ted.

"I've a good reason," said Rodger.

Ted grinned. "And what might that be?" he asked, taking another bite of stew.

"I was trying to work out what makes your nose prickle. Hang on—" He flipped back through some previous pages in the book. "I've got a few questions to ask you while I've got you here." He stopped at the beginning of the list and said, "Right. Okay. We'll start with substances. Does it prickle around poison?"

"I dunno."

Rodger withdrew a labeled glass phial from within his bag and waved it mere inches in front of Ted's nose. He came very close to hitting him with it. "Anything?"

Ted shook his head. "I _told _you," he said as Rodger stowed the phial away and crossed something off a scrap of parchment with his quill. "It's something _living _that I can sense. A _person_."

"This _person_," said Rodger, and his tone suggested that he remained skeptical about the theory, "could have been _carrying poison_."

"If it was poison on her that I was sensing, and I'd been able to sense it all the way from the dormitory, then I think my nose would've started prickling the moment I stepped into the Great Hall from the poison in your bag," Ted pointed out. "What _was_ that stuff anyway?"

"Arsenic," said Rodger, digging around in his bag and pulling out another labeled glass phial.

"Where'd you get it?"

"Nicked it from Professor Zabini's private stores," said Rodger, checking the phial's label. "How about this?" He waved it in Ted's face.

"No," said Ted jadedly.

"Okay, not Veritaserum, either," said Rodger, scratching the parchment with his quill.

"Rodge, I'm _telling _you, it's _not _a substance." He checked his watch and bolted down the rest of his stew. "I've got to go meet Victoire now," he said.

"Oh, very well," Rodger sighed. And then he smiled a rather devilish smile. "Have fun. And er…I believe the French say _bon chance_?"

"Thanks," said Ted, blushing furiously as he left the Great Hall. On the way out, he stopped in a bathroom to check his reflection in the mirror. As he bent over a sink, he ran his fingers through his brown hair a couple of times, and considered changing it to blonde. Did Victoire fancy blondes? He also wondered if he should tune up the color of his eyes. Brown was such a dull color all around. After a moment, he reached a decision, screwed up his eyes as if he were trying really hard to remember something, and changed his brown eyes that were so like his father's to a deep shade of sapphire, and his brown hair so like his father's (but without the gray) to an acid green.

He liked it, but he wondered if he ought to change his outfit a little to go along with it.

He made a pit-stop to his dormitory upstairs. He stepped out of it a few minutes later in dark blue jeans, dragon skin boots, a suede jacket whose color he could change at will (the color he had it set to now was acid green, like his hair) and a Weird Sisters tee shirt underneath. Evidently he'd inherited his mother's taste in music and bands.

As he stepped outside after checking out of the castle, and walked into the afternoon sunlight, he pulled out the new enchanted sunglasses that Albus Potter had given him for his birthday. The lenses were black now, but when he slid them on, Ted selected the same shade of sapphire as his eyes for them, and they promptly changed color accordingly.

He was to meet her outside the post office. On the way, he bought a large bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate.

As he approached the post office, he saw her there.

Standing there.

Waiting.

For him.

And he thought of his father, and how from what he'd read so far in his journal, he had apparently had a huge crush on Lily, the girl who grew up to be his godfather's mother. Although the way things were going, that possibility didn't seem _possible_ at all….

His foot caught on the wheel of a cart, and he fell to his hands and knees in the middle of the street. "I'm alright, I'm good," he said as he rose to his feet and brushed himself off, wishing that Victoire's giggling didn't make him blush even harder than he already was. Flusteredly he examined the chocolate, and was pleased to see that it was unharmed by his accident.

"Hello, Ted," said Victoire, amusement dancing in her eyes. The sound of her voice in his ears was like tasting dark chocolate on his tongue.

"Hi," he replied sheepishly, massaging the back of his neck. There it was again: that feeling that he was suddenly somehow in the middle of doing something stupid!

She looked absolutely wonderful today in a forest green corduroy cap and jacket, over a brown spaghetti-strap and frilly brown skirt that reached down to her knees. Her brown, stiletto boots reached halfway up her shins, and around her neck she had tied a long green-striped scarf. In her hands she clutched the handle of a brown handbag. The skirt and the scarf fluttered fluidly in the spring breezes that blew through today. He noticed there was writing on her spaghetti-strap, and only hesitated reading it because it meant looking at her breasts. But then he figured she would understand. He was only reading her shirt, after all.

He was pleasantly surprised to find that it bore the legend, "The Weird Sisters" in fake rhinestones, just as his tee shirt did (although not in rhinestones).

Apparently Victoire had read Ted's shirt while he'd read hers, because the very next thing that happened was they both looked up at each other and said at the exact same time: "You like Weird Sisters, too? That's awesome!"

They paused, realizing what had just happened.

Then Victoire laughed her magnificently mellifluous laugh, lightly covering her mouth with her elegant fingers.

No amount of metamorphosing could hide the rising, recurring shade of scarlet in Ted's cheeks. "Erm…chocolate?" he offered meekly, showing her the big unopened bar of Honeydukes' best chocolate that he had just bought.

"Ooh, yes, please!" said Victoire excitedly. "We can walk and talk and eat it all at the same time!"

"Where are we going?" Ted asked, his mouth going dry as he unwrapped the chocolate bar with his long, tremulous fingers.

"I thought we might take a walk up to the Shrieking Shack," said Victoire, sweeping a few strands of her hair out of her face.

Ted stopped walking, his whole body inexplicably paralyzed.

Victoire noticed he had stopped and stopped too. She turned to face him, her fine brow slightly creased. "That alright with you?" she asked rather tentatively.

Ted stared at her. A disbelieving half-smile tugged upward at one side of his mouth. "What's—er—What's the attraction?"

Victoire gazed thoughtfully at him a moment.

Ted gazed back, trying to read her thoughts through her eyes. But doing that only seemed to lead to the beauty of her blue-gray eyes distracting him.

Then a smile crept up on her face. It was a dreamy sort of smile. It amused Ted, and he listened as she finally replied softly, "I don't know…I just…had this strange…_feeling_ you'd want to go."

Ted wondered if she knew…if her father, Bill, had ever told her that his father had been a werewolf. He might have mentioned it while explaining to her the scars that etched his otherwise handsome face…perhaps when she'd been small and had asked about them….

His thoughts started to drift back to when Victoire _had_ been small. He had first met her when he was six and she was four. They had only seen each other a couple of times then, and Ted hadn't thought much of her then. Back then she had just been the four-year old second child of four redheaded sisters.

"If you don't want to go—" she began, pulling him out of his reverie.

"No, no!" he said quickly. "I…. I _do _want to go." He laughed softly. "You could say you read my mind."

She smiled and Ted glowed inside.

He had to admit to himself that he much preferred a quiet walk away from the hustle and bustle of Hogsmeade. "Er…shall we go, then?" he said with a broad yet nervous smile, 

unconsciously touching her arm to steer her in the direction of the Shrieking Shack. When he realized he was touching her he took his hand away, cleared his throat, and went back to unwrapping the chocolate bar.

Victoire, however, seemed unperturbed by Ted's action. Either that or she hadn't noticed. "Well…I just thought it'd be something nice and different anyway," she was saying of her idea to go to the Shrieking Shack. "I mean why just go to the lake to escape? Or worse: where everyone _else_ goes?"

"Where's that?" Ted asked, peeling the wrapper apart and breaking off a chunk to offer Victoire.

"Oh you know," she said as she accepted the chocolate offering. "The _tea shop._" She popped the chocolate in her mouth.

Ted laughed. "You're referring to Madam Puddifoot's?"

"Yes," said Victoire, laughing too.

"Oh, and by the way: Happy birthday," said Ted, suddenly remembering that today was Victoire's fifteenth birthday.

Victoire grinned rather mischeivously. "Thank you, Ted. I was wondering if you'd remember."

There was a silence during which Ted broke off a piece of chocolate for himself and ate it. However, as they made their way side by side up the main street of Hogsmeade, he found that the silence was not awkward, as he'd first thought it must be. It was very relaxing. Very comfortable. And for the first time, Ted realized, with a rush of exhilaration to his brain, he was actually _comfortable _and _entirely at ease _with himself in Victoire's presence. He wondered if Victoire felt the same in _his _presence. He genuinely hoped so, as they continued in their pleasant silence, sharing the bar of chocolate between them. The feeling remained all during their quiet trek through the town, all the way to the outskirts and up the narrow path through the thicket.

Victoire took a deep breath of fresh air as they emerged from the other side of the trees into the open air. Here the breezes whipped more quickly and fervently. Ted watched the breezes play with her blazing, rippling, shoulder-length red hair. And he felt a melancholy wash over him, wishing desperately that he could be the wind instead of himself, free to play uninhibited with Victoire's lovely hair…even touch her cheek….

"How did you know I was a choco-phile?" she asked, reaching over and breaking off another small bit of chocolate from the bar in Ted's hand.

Ted swallowed his own bit. "A choco-_what_?"

"Choco-phile," Victoire repeated, flashing him a grin. "I made it up, but it means 'chocolate-lover'. You know, like ailurophile means, '_cat_-lover'."

"Oh, yeah. Clever. Er…I didn't know actually. I just er…happen to be a choco-phile myself."

"Really? That's smashing. Right, so we've got that in common, and the Weird Sisters…. So far so good, right?"

"Yeah, I think so."

They reached the crest of the hill upon which the Shrieking Shack sat. At the sight of it Ted could not take another step. He could only stand there and stare at it in awe. He thought he saw Victoire stop ahead of him again and turn to look at him…he thought he heard her say something to him—his name, maybe—but he didn't hear her…really….

There it was….

Many full moons his father had spent there…transforming…fighting it until giving up in the end…as he had always been forced to do….

Were the scratches and tears on the walls still there…? Or the broken chairs, tables, mirrors, sofas, and wardrobes…? The trapdoor in the floor…and the tunnel below…?

His feet found the ability to move once more and carried him towards the fence surrounding the house. When he reached it he peered through the wire at the house. An urge was growing deep inside of him: an urge to enter the Shack, everything within probably thick with the dust of time.

An odd wave of nostalgia arose in him.

"Ted?" he heard Victoire say gently. He felt her touch his shoulder, and he shivered pleasurably at the sensation.

He continued to stare wistfully at the house. "My father was a werewolf," he said quietly. He expected her hand to leave his shoulder at this, to recoil.

But she did not however, and this emboldened him, so he turned at last to look at her, and asked, "Did you know?"

Victoire was looking up at him with concern. She lowered her gaze. "I think my dad told me when I was little. He was telling me about the scars on his face."

Ted was agog. "Even _you _knew?"

Her eyes snapped up to meet his widened ones. "_You didn't_?"

Ted turned away and scratched the side of his face with his free hand (his other still held the chocolate). "Not until recently. Harry—my godfather—he gave me a box of some of my dad's old things, and…that's where I learned it…. My grandmum…she never wanted me to know much about my dad… I guess, _because _he was a werewolf. Or maybe partly because of that. Anyway, so, Harry had to give me that stuff in secret. And I learned that—that while he was at school, every full moon, to keep him and others safe, Dumbledore had him transform in the Shrieking Shack—that's why people called it that: they'd hear him screaming in pain from the transformation—it's very painful to turn into one, see—and so…they'd hear the screaming and think the screams were from violent spirits." He plunged into an explanation of the process his father went through for the full moons during his first four years at Hogwarts. He decided not to bring up what happened once Remus' friends had figured out how to become Animagi.

"Oh," she said when he'd finished his anecdote. She took her hand away from his shoulder and stood beside him at the fence, gazing at the Shrieking Shack.

Ted returned to contemplating it as well, and he still felt the pull to enter inside of it. In his mind he thought he could hear the howls of pain his father had made inside those walls all those years ago….

His musings were disrupted when his nose started prickling. "Not now," he muttered irritably, rubbing his nose with his free hand.

"'Not now' what?" Victoire asked, peering curiously over at him.

"Nothing…er…my nose, it…. Well, it prickles sometimes, and my mate Rodger and I are trying to figure out why but, we haven't got anything yet." Normally he would have been too nervous to share something like this with her. He'd have been too afraid that she'd think he was really weird. But now that he'd blurted out, "My father was a werewolf" he figured that at this point he could tell her anything without fear of ridicule or embarrassment. He found the feeling this realization evoked in him to be a very liberating one.

"Hmmm," said Victoire thoughtfully. "What've you figured out so far? Anything?"

"Well, the best theory so far is that it's an inborn alarm system. However, for what, exactly, remains a mystery."

"It isn't because of _me_, is it?"

Ted was amused to hear the teasing in her voice. "No," he laughed. "Of course not. Although if it were, that would mean you wouldn't be able to sneak up on me."

"And that'd make things a lot less fun."

"Oh. Planning something, are we?" Ted raised his eyebrows.

"Possibly. Maybe I'll tell you after I've had some more chocolate." She broke off a particularly large piece, and then tore off smaller pieces and popped them one by one in her mouth.

The bar was nearly gone now. They began to walk around the fence surround the Shrieking Shack, and as they did, they continued talking and teasing each other good-naturedly as they leisurely made their way. They finished the rest of the chocolate off as they did so. Then Ted stuck the empty wrapper in the pocket of his acid green suede jacket. At this point he hardly cared that his nose was prickling incessantly, he was enjoying himself and Victoire's company so much.

They stopped at the fence's front gate. They stood there, side by side, facing the house in tranquil silence, hearing only the breeze and the leaves as they shook in the trees nearby and the creaks and moans that they caused the Shrieking Shack to make. These were sounds that Ted found pleasantly peaceful. He and Victoire stood so close together that he could feel his knuckles just barely touching hers. He discovered the sensation filled him with tension, but the tension was a good kind of tension—suspenseful, like the moment between seeing the bludger come after you and taking a swing at it with all of your might, hoping you hear the satisfying sound of the bat colliding with the ball, sending it far away in the opposite direction.

And then Victoire began to sing, and Ted turned his head and watched her, transfixed:

_"Pas de tendresse_  
_Et pas de joie_  
_Loin d'ici_  
_Loin de toi_  
_Rien de plus triste_  
_Que mes soupirs_  
_Lorsque vient le jour_  
_Où il me faut partir_

_Chanson d'enfance_  
_Tu vis toujours dans mon cœur_  
_Toi le plus douce_  
_Toi le plus tendre_"

Delight filled Ted so much that there was hardly any room left to allow air for him to breathe. "That was…. That was…. I can't say what that was, but I loved it…." Her voice in song was something ethereal and transcendent, such as he had never heard before in his life. Although she did not turn her face towards him, he continued to watch her, his eyes tracing every gentle curve and line in the shape of the face he found so attractive, committing each one to memory. As he did so he subconsciously turned the rest of his body towards her.

"Maman sang it to me when I was little," Victoire whispered as she continued to gaze upon the Shrieking Shack that still groaned faintly in the breezes. "It's from a Muggle musical, but she liked the tune very much." She paused. "It's a love song…." At last she turned fully and faced him.

Ted's heart began thudding wildly like the fist of a beast raging to be released from its cage.

She was peering up at his acid green hair. She reached up and lightly brushed a few acid green bangs out of his face. Tiny sparks erupted wherever her fingertips made a light touch to his forehead. "I notice you changed your hair again from the last time I saw you."

"You like it?" Ted asked, wondering why he was whispering too, when they were all alone with not a soul to hear them….

"I do."

Oddly enough, these two words evoked in Ted's mind the fleeting image of her saying those same two words to him, except in a silvery white dress with a delicate, transparent veil over her face….

"I did my eyes too." He became slightly fearful when he saw her frown at this.

"You changed your eyes too?"

"Er…yes."

"Let me see."

Slowly, Ted reached up and removed his sunglasses. He looked down at them as he held them in his hands, before raising his eyes to meet Victoire's.

Victoire frowned still as she scanned the new deep sapphire hue of his irises.

Ted's fear increased. "What's wrong?" he asked, his mouth starting to go dry again.

"I like your eyes the way they _always _are. That brown, you know? They're so..._endearing_."

"_Endearing_?"

"And _charming_. Let's not forget _charming_."

"Oh…of course not."

Victoire tilted her head slightly, her eyes still penetrating his as much as his were penetrating hers…that lovely shade of brown…like the tops of two cups of hot chocolate with a black marshmallow floating on end in the middle.

Chocolate.

How he loved it.

Brown wasn't _really _such a dull color…. It was, after all, _chocolate's _best known color….

"Would you change them back?" she breathed. "Please?"

Ted obeyed at once. He screwed up his eyes, and returned them to their original brown, their original umber softness. He met them with Victoire's again to see her reaction.

Her reaction was _not_ disappointing.

She smiled.

She closed her eyes.

She stepped toward him.

He stepped toward _her_….

And closed _his_ eyes….

Vaguely, he heard a dangling, teetering shutter on the Shrieking Shack break off and fall, scaring a flock of birds in the field beside them into taking flight….

* * *

They had done nothing with their hands. It had all been in their mouths, which had opened up immediately to each other mere seconds after making contact. They had stood there as if the universe had stopped, as if they had all the time in the world. As if it was the contact that their lips had made that had caused the flock of birds to take flight, rather than the shutter breaking off and falling off of the Shrieking Shack.

In reality the kiss had lasted only five minutes. But five minutes is long for a kiss. And a _French _kiss at that.

Actually, it hadn't _started out_ as a French kiss, however, that's how it certainly _ended up_.

They returned to Gryffindor tower holding hands.

"I have to go meet Rodger in the library," he said as they stood before the portrait hole, her hands clasped in his. He was glad the Fat Lady was asleep in her portrait.

"See you at dinner, then?"

"Of course." He kissed her farewell on the cheek, and then left for the library, aware of an ecstatic new spring in his step.

"How'd it go?" Rodger asked him sleepily as he sat down across from him at a table in the library. He glanced up from the big herbology textbook and the note-filled parchment he was going over in time to see Ted smile bashfully, as Rodger had done earlier that day at lunch when Ted had asked him about his brief excursion with Cecilia Bell.

"It was alright," he said quietly.

* * *

The candlelight vigil to honor this wondrous day on which Harry Potter had thwarted Lord Voldemort once and for all seventeen years ago was held that evening outside as always. The students, teachers, and staff all stood around the castle in a ring, facing it, each othe them holding a lit candle in silence for a length of five minutes. The Slytherins were still a little iffy about this, even after seventeen years, but they participated like everyone else.

Ted held hs candle in a slightly sweaty hand. He stared up at the stars, and the pulchritude of the celestial bodies brought a smile to his face as they glittered like diamonds against the dark violet backdrop of the late evening-early night sky. He thought of his parents, as he always on this day, and as always, he thought he could see their faces in the pattern of the silvery rhinestones that sparkled elegantly overhead.

Beside him, Victoire slipped her free hand in his and gently squeezed.

Ted looked quickly at her, and she at him. They held each other's gazes, and smiled. Then they looked together back up at the star-studded heavens. A distinct sting welled up behind Ted's eyes, and there was a triumphant sort of pounding in his heart.

Like tonight, it seemed that May 2nd was always a breathtakingly beautiful night.

* * *

The dark dormitory was pierced with a single point of light from the tip of Ted's wand. He was the sole one awake, and presently he was engrossed in Remus Lupin's personal account of 1976.


	10. Life Savers, Lakesides, and Love Affairs

**Chapter Ten**

**Life Savers, Lakesides, and Love Affairs**

It was a beautiful day for a Quidditch final between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Remus was in the stands with Sirius and Peter, cheering the loudest as James came zooming out on his new Nimbus 1000 along with the rest of the Gryffindor team. He booed along with them when the Slytherin team came zooming out next.

"Hello, Remus!" said a voice.

Remus jumped in his skin as he realized that Lily was standing right there on the other side of him. He was in the perfect position to take her hand in both of his, gaze into those green, almond-shaped eyes, and say, "I think you're gorgeous and absolutely irresistible. Be my girlfriend, go out with me, marry me, and have my children. Please." He laughed inside his head when he imagined this ridiculous situation, and instead turned to Lily and said, albeit meekly, but still loud enough that he could be heard over the roaring crowd around them, "Er…hello, Lily! How—How are you?"

"I'm alright!" said Lily. "How are you?"

Did she just blush again? Remus couldn't be sure. One thing he _was _sure of, however, was that his palms were fast growing sweaty. "Oh…I'm alright!" he said.

"All right, Evans?" James had come over to the Gryffindor section of the stands. Since Remus, Lily, Sirius, and Peter were all in the front row, he was able to visit them briefly as he flew round and round the Quidditch field on his broom.

"Potter, you idiot, the rest of your team is waiting for you!" Lily yelled.

James blinked and then glanced over his shoulder. "Oh! Yeah! Right! See you, then!" And he zoomed off to the center of the field and hung in midair, face to face with the opposing Seeker on the Slytherin team, who happened to be none other than Sirius' little brother, Regulus Black.

"Come on, Prongs!" Sirius yelled wildly. "Run the bloody rat-faced git into the ground! Squash him! _Squash him_!"

"Charming," Remus heard Lily mutter under her breath.

Remus smiled in spite of himself.

For most of the game Remus and Lily cheered with everybody else and focused on nothing but the game. Remus was glad to see that despite the fact that the fate of Gryffindor rested on James' shoulders, she still wanted very much for him to capture the Snitch and win the game for their house. She was even just as incensed as everybody else was at one point when James and Regulus were neck and neck, racing to reach the Snitch that was just ahead of them, zooming round and round the field, and Regulus had the gall to swing out with his leg and kick James so hard that James half-crashed into the side of the stadium, barely managing to cling onto his broom. Luckily, Regulus caught some of the recoil and was knocked off course as well, and the Snitch disappeared again.  


"YOU DIRTY LITTLE BASTARD!" Sirius screamed savagely. "YOU SPINELESS WANK BISCUIT!"

"BLACK! YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH!" snapped Professor McGonagall, who happened to be within hearing range of Sirius' manic shrieks of rage—which wasn't really hard to be.

Sirius however appeared not to have heard McGonagall, and lurched forward as if to dive right over the stands and into the stadium, disregarding the fact that he hadn't a broom or a magic carpet, nor could he fly.

Fortunately, Remus and Peter both grabbed one of his arms and held him back.

"LET ME AT HIM!" he roared, struggling in their grasp, clawing futilely at the air. "LET—ME—AT—HIM!" And when he began to snarl in a canine manner, Remus suddenly feared that he would get so carried away he'd transform into a dog, and leap into the stadium with the pretext of biting his younger brother's head off. To his intense relief, Sirius finally gave in and relaxed as the game resumed. "WHAT CURSE WAS LAID UPON ME TO MAKE ME RELATED TO _YOU_?" he cried, shaking his fist in the direction of where Regulus flew above the game, watching James' every movement as James vigilantly kept his eye out for the Snitch. "WHY DID FATE CONDEMN ME TO THE FAMILY OF BLACK? _WHY_?"

As Sirius had confided to Remus so long ago at the start-of-term feast when they were just young and innocent first-years, he was "a bit of a dramatic".

"Padfoot, you drama queen, calm down!" Remus exclaimed.

Sirius was breathing heavily, but he seemed at last to be mastering himself as he lowered his fist. He fell into a brooding silence for a moment, but then one of the Gryffindor Chasers scored another ten points, and his demeanor brightened at once as he cheered with the rest of the Gryffindor supporters.

It didn't take long for James to locate the Snitch again. However, instead of pursuing it, he did the Wronski Feint and Regulus fell for it and followed him. Unfortunately for him, while doing this, a bludger happened to cross paths with him, and while it missed James by inches, it collided directly with the side of Regulus' head. Even from the stands they could see the blood spurt out of from his ear.

"TAKE _THAT_!" Sirius hollered.

Remus rolled his eyes.

"Look at him," Lily muttered beside him.

"Who?" asked Remus.

"_Potter_. Big show-off."

Remus looked at James, who was now zooming around the stadium doing fancy tricks on his broom, like standing on it as he rode, or hanging upside down from it like a monkey, or doing handstands on it—two-handed, and then one-handed.

"If _he _doesn't quit it, Regulus is going to recover and find the Snitch before _he _does," said 

Lily, "even if he doesn't purposefully look for it himself."

She had a point.

The crowd went ballistic now, and Remus, who had been listening to Lily, quickly tried to figure out why. He soon found out however. In the midst of showing off his tricks, James had caught sight of the Snitch again, doubled back, riding the broom in reverse, and plucked the Snitch from the air in mere seconds within catching sight of it.

Remus joined Sirius and Peter in running out to the field to James and the other Gryffindor team members, but he glanced once over his shoulder at Lily, who straggled behind disgruntledly with her arms folded. Yet even when she was moody she was still as pretty as ever.

As he celebrated with the other Gryffindors in the middle of the field, Remus and Sirius lifted James on their shoulders as they paraded him out of the stadium. Then two members of the team took over for them as they continued their procession up to the castle, while the team's captain carried the silver Quidditch cup.

For a moment, Sirius disappeared from Remus' side. Confused, he looked around at Peter walking along on his other side. "Did you see where Padfoot ran off to?" he asked.

Peter shrugged and then ran ahead to catch up with James and the other Gryffindors.

Remus stopped and turned around. However, the only person he saw coming out of the stadium was Lily, her arms still folded as she made her way across the grass in his direction. "Lily! Did you see Sirius?" he asked her.

"Yes," Lily sighed, and she stopped when she reached him. "He wanted a private chat with Severus. I told Sev it was a bad idea but he wouldn't hear of it. He told me to go on ahead without him. Oh. There he is."

Remus looked over and saw Severus walking quickly out of the stadium, as if driven by some burning and purposeful desire. The moment he noticed the two of them standing alone together up ahead of him, his face became vicious.

"I'd better go," said Remus. Before Lily could protest, he ran up the slope to the castle, and didn't look back once until he was inside the Gryffindor common room, celebrating victory with the other Gryffindors. He did not relax however until he saw Sirius trail in through the portrait hole after him a few moments later. "Where did you go?" he asked. "You disappeared on me and Wormtail!"

"Sorry, mate," said Sirius. He wore a grin that told Remus he'd been up to no good—and it had been more than just innocent marauding to boot.

He decided however not to further question Sirius. A few minutes into the Gryffindor party, Remus felt thoroughly worn out: the April full moon was due the very next day.

* * *

Remus could not remember a thing after he succumbed to the darkness. The next thing he knew he was lying in a bed in the hospital wing. This could only mean one thing: last night his friends had not joined him. For the first time since they'd started this charade, his 

friends had not joined him. They didn't even tell him they weren't coming. And this had to mean that something had gone wrong while he was away. With a weight of dread settling into his stomach, he opened his eyes and saw his friends' faces gazing down at him as always, but they were solemn. Remus' insides clenched. Something _was _wrong.

"Hiya, Moony," said James, smiling a little. "How are you?"

"Awful," Remus replied hoarsely. His transformations had been improving some ever since his friends started joining him as animals during his full moon routine. But after last night, when they weren't with him all of a sudden, the beast had been far more violent, as if it had become a manifestation of Remus' fury at not having them show up as usual to accompany him. As he thought of this, the indignation must have shown on his face, for the next thing out of James' mouth was:

"Listen, mate, we're really sorry we weren't there last night. Something came up. _Something serious_." On the last two words, he glanced across the bed at Sirius, who appeared to be the gravest of the three of them. "Padfoot?" James prompted. "You want to explain to Moony why we couldn't show up last night?"

Sirius shuffled his feet and then looked directly at Remus. Remus had never seen him look so remorseful, and it made his heart clench to witness it.

"Last month," Sirius began, taking a deep breath as he did so, "I saw…er…_Snape _staring out the window at you and Madam Pomfrey as you and she were crossing the grounds to the Whomping Willow." He paused to make sure Madam Pomfrey wasn't about to walk in on them, and then continued. "And well…I…. You know those scratches he got all over his face? And that detention he got?"

Remus nodded.

"Well, he had tried to get in the Whomping Willow himself," Sirius went on. "He was trying to find a way to get in after you at the next full moon. I mean I dunno if that was his intention _exactly_, but I had a hunch that's what it was ever since that crack he made in the Great Hall about you prowling by the full moon. Anyway, before the game on the day before yesterday I overheard him talking about it to some of the Slytherins—about how to get under the willow, anyway, not why—so, after the game—remember I sort of…ran off?"

The weight of dread in Remus' stomach grew heavier as he nodded again.

"Well, I'd hung back to tell _Snivellus _how to get in. I told him about the knot that freezes the tree, and that all he had to do was go down the tunnel and he'd find out everything he wanted to know. I thought it'd be a laugh…I wasn't—wasn't thinking…."

"No, you weren't," said James. "The stupid git followed your advice exactly."

Remus' dread skyrocketed to horror. "I didn't…did I…there wasn't blood…I didn't…?"

"He's fine," said James shortly. "You didn't harm a hair on his greasy little head. But obviously he'd told Lily where he was off to before he left—you know how they're _friends _and all. Anyway, Lily doesn't want anyone knowing about this, especially _Snivellus_, but after she'd learned from him what Sirius had done she conveyed it to me—I dunno how much she knows, Remus, but I don't think she's gonna skip off and rat out on us if she does—but anyhow, after she told me what Sirius had done, I went in after Snape and…followed him down the tunnel and…."

"_You _were down there _too_!" Remus exclaimed. "I could've killed the _both _of you!"

"I know!" James said fiercely. "So _Snivellus _had better be glad I risked my neck to save his pathetic, worthless hide!" His face softened again. "But…well…I managed to hold him back but, only after we'd gotten to the end of the tunnel, and…opened the trap door, and…he saw you."

Remus blinked. "He—He saw me?"

"Yeah. So…now he knows."

Remus closed his eyes and groaned.

"Dumbledore's made him swear not to go blabbing," Peter said quickly.

"Although Prongs, Wormtail and I had a chat with Snivellus afterwards in any case," growled Sirius. "Just to be _sure_."

Remus opened his eyes and for the first time since waking up, he saw true smiles on his friends' faces. He found the effect infectious, so he started to smile too. "Oh really? And what did you tell him?"

"We told him that if he blabbed to any of his little Death Eater pals," said James with a smirk, "we'd force his head into a vat of soapy water so that his hair got clean."

"I dunno why it worked," said Sirius, mirroring James' smirk, "but I guess clean hair just gives him the willies. But Wormtail here was an excellent cheerleader, in any case."

"Padfoot!" Peter groaned.

"Only joking, Wormy," laughed Sirius, punching Peter playfully on the arm.

And despite his apprehensions about Severus now knowing his secret, and the fact that he'd come very close last night to not only killing Severus, but James, one of his best friends, as well, he still found it in him to laugh along with them, mostly out of the joy brought about by the intense the relief that he _hadn't _harmed either of them, and most likely the chances had been slim. And so this incident would continue to haunt Remus in his nightmares for the next few months. For now, however, he could feel nothing but happiness as Sirius looked at him and said, "So, can you…er…forgive me, mate?"

"Of _course _I can, Padfoot," Remus laughed, glad to see relief wash over his friend's previously tense visage. "I mean what're friends for, eh?"

* * *

O.W.L.s came upon the fifth years when the days were sunny, and warm, and wonderful. It didn't seem fair to be locked up in the school doing their written and practical exams. The practical exams weren't too bad. They had a bit of excitement to them since they required _doing_ magic instead of just writing about the _theory_. Although history of magic was by far the worst, because it only had a written exam, and it wasn't even about magical theory: it was all just about remembering a bunch of dates and what happened on them and why they were so important to remember in the first place.

On the evening of the day they had taken their defense against the dark arts written exam, James, Sirius, and Peter were up in the fifth-year boys' dormitory laughing their heads off about the events that had taken place earlier that afternoon, while James and Sirius played a game of wizard's chess on James' four-poster. Remus, however, did not have the heart to join them, so he'd opted to go downstairs into the common room in his pajamas and bathrobe, sit at their usual table between the window and the fireplace, and write in his journal.

_5 June, 1976_

_After what happened today, I cannot help but feel disgusted with myself. Not only did I allow James and Sirius to torment Severus, despite it being completely within my power to put a stop to it (as a prefect), but I allowed it all to happen right in front of Lily. When she and I first met in herbology, I had managed to convince her that my views on some of James and Sirius' ideas of fun were not alike, which is true. But does she believe that now?_

_Before it happened, I noticed her as I sat with them beneath the beech tree near the lake. She and her girl friends from Gryffindor were gathered by the water's edge, and she saw me, and waved to me. And she had smiled at me. And her rippling dark red hair shown smooth in the sunlight, and it hit it to give the appearance that she was wearing a pearly, shimmering corona on her head, and I became overcome with a desire to run my hands through her silken red strands, and the farthest I got with my fantasy was where after stroking her lovely hair, I'd plant tiny kisses along her unblemished neck, trailing them ever so delicately along her throat…. And I thought the day couldn't get any better._

_Well it didn't._

_Sirius proclaimed that he was bored and wished that it was full moon. I however do not wish that in the least, and although I think he sometimes forgets how little I look forward to it, only because he, James, and Peter have done a good job making it a tad more enjoyable—even if now I spend half my energy as a werewolf trying to cling onto my human mind that for some reason their presence seems to bring to surface—so long as they aren't aggressive with me. Anyhow, at the time I was nettled at his remark and decided to be a bit of a thorn in his side and suggest he test me on transfiguration. He snorted at me of course, told me he knew it all. Now that we were even, I had gone back to my reading, only to hear James point Severus out to Sirius, and the two of them were soon on their feet, advancing on him. _

_I sat there, staring at the word, "technique" in my transfiguration book, but not really seeing it. It seemed to swim before me as I listened to the crowd of on-lookers as they laughed at Severus being tormented by Sirius and James. And I felt Lily's eyes on me. I knew she was waiting for me to do something. It seemed that she realised that I would not when I still did nothing despite the sounds I heard of Severus gagging and choking on soap bubbles. I felt her march past me and shout at James and Sirius to leave him alone. _

_The pricker of jealousy poked me, despite how guilty I always feel about it afterward, when James said he'd leave Severus alone if Lily would go out with him. In spite of myself, however, I could not help but smile and experience a brief respite of happiness when she turned him down point blank, saying she wouldn't go out with him if it was a choice __between him and the giant squid. I hate feeling so jealous every time James gives off signs of his own affections for Lily. He's one of my best friends, and I can't stand having something against him, feeling almost hostile towards him. I sometimes wonder if my jealousy is influenced by the territorial instincts of the wolf dormant inside me right now…._

_I have to admit that my jealousy and happiness all disappeared when Severus gave James a taste of his lovely "Sectumsempra". Not even James would do something like that. The curse left a bloody gash in the side of James' face, and it's no wonder he responded by lifting Severus upside down in the air by his ankle. But even after Severus called her the "M" word—"Mudblood"—Lily's attitude towards James did not change. She gave a lovely speech about how despicable James is and, she finished with a nice, "You make me SICK," and then turned tail and stormed off. I tried to catch her eye—my own eyes were pleading with her—but she did not even look at me. And now I know that she thinks I am no better than James and Sirius, and that she is just as disgusted with me as she with them—as I am with myself._

As he finished penning this last sentence, he heard someone coming in through the portrait hole. It was a brunette he only recognized by face as one of Lily's friends. She didn't even glance at Remus as she ran up the stone steps to the girls' dormitories. A moment later, Lily herself came down the stairs in a dressing gown, her hands at her sides, balled into fists. He admired the resoluteness of her gait, although he had no idea why she needed to be so resolute. She did not spare him a single glance either. He watched her climb through the portrait hole and out of sight.

Next he heard voices, indistinct, coming from just outside the entrance into Gryffindor tower. He strained his hear, unable to help himself (he was making a habit of that lately) and tried to catch what he could.

"I'm sorry!"

"Save your breath…Mary told me you were threatening to sleep here."

"I was…never meant to call you Mudblood, it just—"

"Slipped out? ...your precious little Death Eater friends—you see, you don't even deny it! …that's what you're all aiming to be! …can't wait to join You-Know-Who, can you?"

A pause.

"…can't pretend anymore. You've chosen your way, I've chosen mine."

"No—listen, I didn't mean—"

"—to call me Mudblood? ...you call everyone of my birth…Severus…should I be any different?"

Another pause.

And then he heard the portrait swing open and close, and then Lily reemerged into the common room. He could sense the anger and hurt radiating from her as she headed not for the staircase to the dormitories, but for the window. She walked right past him as she did so, still unaware of his presence. He turned in his chair to watch her flop down on the window seat, and folding her arms while she glared out the window. After a few minutes her gaze softened, and he thought he could see—though perhaps it was a trick of the moonlight—tears glistening in her emerald, almond-shaped eyes.

"Lily?" he said softly.

Lily stirred as if he'd surprised her from her own world of thoughts. She looked over at him, and the alarm from her face disappeared to be replaced by weary relief. "Oh. Hello, Remus." She turned away from him to gaze out the window again. He noticed she didn't bother wiping at her eyes or trying to hide the fact that she was getting weepy. He did not see any tears come down her face either. The overbrightness of her eyes was the only clue.

Remus remained sitting in his chair at the table, leaning his side against the back of it. He folded his hands in his lap, and stared down at them as he twiddled his thumbs. "I'm sorry."

"What? Oh…. For what?"

"For—you know—for today. I should've—"

"Don't worry about it."

Remus glanced up quickly from his thumbs and saw she was looking out the window as she spoke.

She gave a humorless laugh. "I don't think anyone can keep the Toerag Twins in line. And no one ever _will_, most likely."

"_You _probably could."

She turned her head again and looked at him.

Remus started to blush and dropped his eyes back to his twiddling thumbs. Those eyes were so bewitching to him…. Yet he just now, right then and there, made his decision. It was now or never, he'd realized: the moment had arrived when he had to decide whether to work for himself, or work for James. Lily had known that he was a werewolf for nearly four or five years, and had never shown him disdain for it. Like James, Sirius, and Peter, she had not abandoned him. Though of course, she and he weren't as close as he was with James, Sirius, and Peter, but the point was that she had continued to treat him as she would treat any other good acquaintance and _confidant_. She was as much a friend to him as any other.

But he knew…as much as he crushed on her, there was no way in a million years that she would feel the same way about him in return. He would always be her friend, but—what beautiful girl—no: what beautiful _young woman _like Lily could ever feel anything more for him than just fondness and a bond of friendship?

Though he hated the thought of it, he knew now that because of this terrible truth, there was nothing left but to do everything on James' behalf. Let him have her. Not compete with him _for _her. Just step aside and let him have all the chances with her.

He felt her eyes still on him, and his face grew hotter and hotter.

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" she finally asked him.

"Well…." Remus took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was…referring more to _James_," he explained, his gaze remaining fixed on his twiddling thumbs in his lap, "but, I mean…pardon me for being blunt and cliché, but I think _you_—" He raised his soft brown eyes. And the vibrant green eyes into which he gazed were more beautiful than ever. They made it so much harder for him to finish his sentence. Yet he managed to make the words tumble reluctantly past his lips all the same. "I think _you_…are the woman…for _him_…." His face went so scarlet he knew it must be a huge contrast to the pallor of his skin, and lowered his eyes to his thumbs once more. He noticed he'd begun to twiddle them faster, almost in time with the rapid beating of his heart that was now setting off on its way down the path of self-inflicted pain. When she said nothing he went on in an attempt to highlight James' finer points. "James is a good person, really. He's rather pompous, yes, but I think _part _of it—not _all _of it—but _part _of it is because—because he fancies _you _so much."

"Ha!" Lily scoffed. "Just like Severus: trying to impress me by becoming a Death Eater."

"But _James isn't_," Remus argued, rather more fiercely than he'd meant to, and he looked up to see she'd returned to gazing out the window. "He's not trying to impress you _that _way. He just…needs someone like _you _to straighten him out a little."

Lily made a derisive noise.

The ferocity of Remus' determination to make Lily see James in a better light increased, and he couldn't understand why, considering it was hurting himself so much to do it. Regardless, he found himself rising from his chair and crossing to the window to stand near her. Now he was getting through this mostly on pure nerve. "_Look_," he said.

And she looked at him.

"Oh, don't _look _at me like that!" He turned away from her and crossed to the middle of the room, throwing his hands up in the air. He was on the verge of grabbing his head with them. So this was the side-effect of sacrificing one's heart: self-torturing insanity? _Why do I have to be so over the moon for her? Oh, God. _That _was _definitely _no pun intended. Not that anyone heard it other than me—_

"Don't look at you like _what_?"

Remus froze. He couldn't believe it. She was _giggling_. _Flirtatiously_. With _him_. He spun around and saw she had her back completely facing the window. And he realized with dread that from that moment on she was not going to take those brilliant green eyes off of him. He couldn't bear to look at her now. "Nothing," he lied, waving one hand as if to bat away a fly. He began to pace back and forth. "James and you are an excellent match," he went on resolutely. "You balance each other out. I mean do you realize that of all the people out there today, nobody but _you _could have persuaded him to take that curse off of Severus? I'm telling you not even Sirius Black could have convinced him otherwise…of course it would have been completely out of character for him, but that's beside the point—"

"But why would I have that kind of power over James Potter?"

"Because he _fancies _you! Haven't you been listening? In fact he _more _than fancies you: he's crazy in _love _with you! The poor bloke's on the road to lovesickness, and believe me: it's pathetic to watch it creep up on him…." For a moment he wondered wildly if he'd actually just been talking about himself, rather than James. Desperately he shook his head, went over to the sofa before the dying fire in the fireplace, and collapsed onto it. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands and heaved a deep sigh of exhaustion. He felt so drained. It was like his love for Lily had suddenly become his sole life force, and now that he was killing it softly, it was killing _him_.

He heard Lily rise from the window seat, and—to his horror—felt her sit down beside him on the sofa. He stiffened and sat up straight at once.

"Remus?"

He could not tear himself away from those almond-shaped orbs of emerald green. Surely she could hear the swift thumping of his heart.

She smiled rather sheepishly. "I don't think you'd make a very good matchmaker. I don't think I can _honestly _envision myself and James Potter. Can you?"

"Yes."

"How?" Lily laughed.

"Lily," Remus said in a quiet, steely tone, "_listen _to me. I may not be too well read on the subject of love, but I do know the saying, 'opposites attract'. This applies to everyone. I would think that if you fell for someone who was too much like yourself, it'd be like you're just getting another you. Almost. But when you fall for someone who's relatively opposite from you, then it's like you're getting a part of you that's been missing. A part of you that's been rather subdued. That's why they call them your_ better _half! They bring out that half of you others don't see, and you like it! You _love _it…."

At the moment, Remus did not believe these words at all—he was only saying them for the sake of trying to get Lily to see a different side of James—but in time, he would come to discover just how true they were.

"James," he went on, now that he was on a roll, "is a big-headed idiot. And then you: you're…you're…." He gestured to her, stammering incoherently. Many adjectives were springing to mind, like "beautiful", "smart", "uncommonly kind", but he was far too embarrassed to form them with his mouth. And as the list in his head grew, it only reminded him more of the beautiful thing that he could never have…could never have from _her_…for it was highly unlikely that she would ever _offer _it to him….

And his heart broke.

At last he tore his eyes from hers.

He balled the hand with which he'd been gesturing into a fist, and stuck it in his mouth, his teeth clamped on a knuckle. He didn't care if he had started scaring her with his strange behavior…. That inside him, he was desperately grappling with waves of emotions crashing and thrashing like the lonely storm-tossed sea.

And then a warm hand softly stroked his cheek with its knuckles.

_Lily's hand_….

Remus indulged in her touch for a moment, before he pushed her hand away, though not unkindly. He was gentle and careful.  


Yet in the brief twinkling that this motion caused their hands to brush against one another, instead of taking the hint, Lily clasped her hand in his.

Remus took his fist out of his mouth and looked at her.

"Remus, what's wrong?" she asked, her countenance bent with concern. Concern for _him_.

Remus gulped. He did not pull away the hand she was holding. Instead, he allowed it to strengthen him. He inhaled tremulously and closed his eyes. When he spoke, he was surprised she could hear him, he was speaking so quietly. "It's just that…these past few months…it's been coming to me…I'd never realized it before but…I don't think that I will ever…_end up _with someone…in the end…." He chuckled mirthlessly. "I mean what bird would want some—some…_contaminated_…_cursed_…_bestial_…_infected_…_scarred_…_monster_...?" The very last word shook rather violently as he forced it out of his mouth.

"Remus, you are a _beautiful _person. You're so kind, and I can't say I've ever seen you caught up in a foul temper." She chuckled fondly. "I remember at the beginning of this year, after the start-of-term feast, watching you leading all the first-year Gryffindors to Gryffindor tower. I even remember once seeing you—back in our fourth year—help this poor little second-year girl who'd dropped all of her spell books when no one else was bothering to stop and help her. And I'll never forget when you tutored that third-year with his defense against the dark arts for a month until he managed to get his grades back up. I wouldn't be surprised if you became a teacher someday…. Oh, Remus, don't you see? Any girl would be lucky to have someone like you…."

Remus shook his head and looked up at her. He gazed into her eyes, and she drew closer to him on the sofa. Far too close…. Close enough that he could smell her scent….

_Lilac and vanilla…. _

Her lips caught his with such swiftness he barely had time to react.

Shocks went through him.

And then, it seemed, they went through _her._

She pulled back. But she was not horrified or disgusted—she had just kissed a werewolf, after all. Instead, she was smiling. Shyly. "Erm…'night," she said softly.

Remus watched her run up the stairs and disappear into the girls' dormitories. Only then did he realize how good her kiss had felt.


	11. John and Joanne

**Chapter Eleven**

**John and Joanne**

"Remus?"

Remus was sitting on the edge of his bed on the night of his return home from Hogwarts for the summer holidays. The voice that called him from the doorway was that of his mother, Joanne.

"Mum?"

She came over and sat down beside him. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair. It always made Remus feel a little better when she did that. "Something's bothering you." It wasn't a question.

Remus nodded.

Joanne froze in mid-caress. And then she peered more closely at his hair. "Remus, would you hand me the torch in your bedside table, please?"

Remus opened the drawer to his bedside table and took out the Muggle flashlight he used to use when he was little to read up past his bedtime. Because his mother was a Muggle, there was a half-and-half atmosphere to the Lupin household. Some things in it were magic, and some were Muggle. He often wondered how his father had come to love his mother, even though she couldn't do magic, as he could. And he wondered how his mother felt when his father could wave a wand and cook something, while she had to do it on the Muggle stove.

Joanne clicked on the flashlight and used it to examine her son's hair. After a minute the heat from the light became intense on his scalp.

"Mum—"

"I don't _believe _it!" Joanne gasped. "John!"

Remus' father jogged up the stairs, his brow faintly furrowed. "What is it, Jo?" he asked, poking his head in the doorway to Remus' bedroom.

"Mum, please turn the torch off," Remus said. "It's burning me."

"Oh! Sorry, Remus." Joanne turned off the flashlight and took her hands away from his head. "John," she said, turning to her husband, "would you take a look at this?"

John took out his wand and muttered, "_Lumos_."

Remus rubbed the spot on his scalp where the light of the flashlight had been heating it intensely.

John held his lit wand over him and looked at his son's hair. "His hair," he said woodenly.

"Don't make such a _fuss_," Remus entreated them both. "Mum, it's not a big deal—"

"Not a _big deal_? Remus! You're only _sixteen_ and you're already getting gray hair!"  


"It's only _one _gray hair, Mum!"

"It's a side-effect of lycanthropy, Jo," John said quietly. "Signs of aging appear earlier than in—than in other people."

"You mean _normal _people," Remus muttered bitterly.

John sighed. "_Nox_," he muttered, and the light on his wand tip went out.

Remus rose from his bed and pushed his way past his parents.

"Remus, where are you going?" his mother asked when he reached the door.

"Outside," said Remus. "I—I need some air. That's all." Without a backward glance he went down the stairs, out the front door, and stood on the front lawn of the Lupins' cottage, which stood in the serene, deciduous countryside, surrounded by tall trees bordering the small forest clearing in which they lived. Remus folded his arms and swayed slightly on the spot, staring blankly at the patch of grass in front of him that had to be the exact spot where he'd been attacked by that werewolf all those years ago. He couldn't help but feel sorry for that wolf, knowing that it couldn't control its actions when it was like that. He now knew the same horrors that whatever person was inside that monster had to face every full moon, and empathizing with it was inevitable for Remus.

He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply the scent of the trees as the wind blew through them. He loved the scent so much. He was also coming to love the scent of lilac combined with vanilla, which seemed to hang in his nose from the mere memory of it….

"Remus?"

Remus looked over his shoulder and saw his father step out the front door.

"Could we chat a moment?" he asked. He folded his arms and came to stand beside his son on the lawn near Remus' mother's little garden of filled with gladioli, snowdrops, daisies, daffodils, tulips, and buttercups, and even a rosebush on a wire frame.

Remus nodded.

The wind picked up again, the trees rustling with their calming resonances, and then died down.

"Son," said John, "I know you find your mother a bit unbearable at times, but…you _must _understand _why_she worries the way she does."

"Yeah, I understand. I've understood that for a while."

His father said nothing. It seemed he knew that Remus had more on his mind than just his mother's alarm at his hair and the possibility that his lycanthropy might have shortened his life expectancy. However, he was not going to prompt Remus to continue. He was simply waiting for Remus to continue on his own.

Remus sighed. "Dad?"  


"Hm?"

"When did…? How did you—How did you meet Mum?"

His father chuckled, and Remus quickly glanced at him before gazing back out at the front lawn again to see a reminiscent smile on John's face.

"Oh Remus," he said, the laughter lingering in his voice, "I wondered when the day would come when you would ask me that question. Well…uh-ha…it all started, actually, with this inexplicable desire to get into the business of making wizards' watches. I always had a fascination with timepieces. They're mechanisms with a synchronized system of gears and cogs, but their only purpose is to measure the passing of time. I was also very interested in Muggle watches. When I got out of Hogwarts, I started work at Keys and Quartz in Diagon Alley. That was another watch shop, but it's long since gone out of business. Anyway, in my spare time, I'd sneak into London and visit various Muggle clock, watch, and jewelry shops. And one day, it was pouring rain, and the next shop I went into—" Here the traces of laughter rose in his voice "—I went in soaking wet! I mean I felt like I'd just jumped into a lake! I don't even remember the name of the shop, but the first thing I saw…was your mother."

Here the laughter faded away, and immediately grew mild with fond recollection. Remus could see his father's eyes transform into the way they always looked whenever John gazed at Joanne.

"I swept the wet hair out of my eyes…and there she was…standing behind the counter…leafing through a Muggle magazine. She looked up from it, and when she saw me…uh-ha…I could tell she was trying so hard not to laugh. I was blushing horribly, of course—I felt so stupid, standing there. I hadn't said a word. I was just standing there, staring, while she went to the back of the shop, still trying not to laugh as she got me a towel to dry my hair. When she handed me the towel…our hands brushed against each other…and there was this jolt…and I looked up…and she was looking at me…and our eyes met…and…er, well, immediately we both looked away, but…from that moment on I was in love with her.

"We talked while I dried off, and at once…I think we both felt this…mutual desire to keep seeing each other—which of course we _did_—and then after about a couple of months…I told her what I was."

Remus glanced over at his father, and saw his eyes had changed again to something unreadable and faraway. For a moment, Remus imagined a world where Lily did _not _already know he was a werewolf, and then on some date with her in the vague future, where she was dressed in exotically sensual togs, he revealed to her what _he_ was…. Quickly he pulled himself back to reality. "Er, you told Mum you were a wizard?" he asked John.

His father nodded.

Remus inquired of her reaction.

"She thought I was playing a cruel trick on her—cruel because I kept insisting that it was true," John replied.

Remus returned transitorily to his vision of his date with Lily, and saw her reaction to him as 

he told her that he was a werewolf. To his horror, it was one of outrage and disgust…. His mind came back to the front lawn and small garden of the Lupins' at the sound of his father's voice.

"I of course wouldn't let up, because I was _telling_the _truth_. She got frustrated with me and stormed out of the café—that's where we'd been having our date, at the time. I sent her a letter the next day by owl post. It contained things that I tried to point out to her, like the fact that I hadn't the faintest idea how to use a telephone. Even the owl itself was supposed to be physical evidence that I came from a different world hidden from hers. To my surprise, she sent me a reply _using_the owl. She still wanted to see me. She wanted to meet with me, and have me prove to her that I was a wizard. I sent her another letter saying that I couldn't, because it was against wizarding law to do magic in plain sight of a Muggle. I knew she wouldn't like reading that at all. But she replied—_again_. She was still in love with me, but in her reply she asked me how she was supposed to trust me then. I wrote back, saying that I had no answer to that. After that I received no reply. We didn't speak for a fortnight.

"That time…was awful for me…. I missed her so much…yet I was beginning to believe that it was over between us. I didn't _want _it to be…the mere _idea _of it was _killing _me…." John sighed.

Remus couldn't be sure in the early summer evening light, but he thought he saw his father's eyes grow misty. He was even more certain of it when his father looked over at him to meet his gaze.

"_The Daily Prophet_ was starting to show signs of being taken over by You-Know-Who's Death Eaters. I began to worry. By then I was in between my job at Keys and Quartz, and opening up my own shop, so I was spending a lot more time in Diagon Alley. And I was hearing the rumors—the things _The Prophet_ _wasn't _printing. As I heard more and more about attacks on Muggles, I began to worry incessantly about your mother. From what I'd heard, I was sure that she was alright, but I couldn't ignore this gnawing need to make sure for myself. To this day I shudder to think what might have happened if I _hadn't _done so." And then John did as he claimed, closing his eyes and shuddering with the memory he was about to divulge next to his son.

"What happened?" Remus breathed.

John opened his eyes, and took a deep breath. "I went to her flat in London where we had enjoyed a few evenings alone together—" An ephemeral flicker of pleasure flitted across his face "—and, er, she was there. We were both rather stiff with each other. She invited me in for a cuppa, and we sat in her sitting room as though we were meeting for the only the first or second time, as though we had never been intimate with each other before. Regardless, I shook off my awkwardness and warned her that she was in danger, and that I had come to make sure she was alright. Naturally she was taking it as an extension of my, 'I'm a wizard' ploy, but she didn't openly let on. She was subtle. I could tell she was hurt, however, and that she was finding it very _hard _to be subtle, when all she really wanted to do was…yell at me, I suppose. In any case, I wish she _had_, because the quiet tension was just too much. I took the hint and left. But…I continued to keep an eye on her.

"I, er, stalked her, essentially. However, I was only doing it for her protection. Never mind that at least it gave me a chance to keep seeing her." John became slightly flustered.

"It's alright, Dad," said Remus, who had to admit to himself that he had secretly followed 

Lily once or twice before without her knowing it. "Go on. It obviously turned out alright in the end."

John laughed, seeming to relax again. "Yes! Yes, it did. Well…erm…it was a bit tricky, balancing keeping tabs on her while at the same time transitioning from Keys and Quartz to my own private business in Diagon Alley, but I managed it. And one night, after about a week of this, I followed her to this Muggle place they called a dance hall, and it was very hard to keep an eye on her there, let me tell you. All of these Muggles were dancing around—a dance they called 'swing'. It was easy to keep a low profile however, because of all the people. I watched her from a corner of the room, and it was all I could do not to do anything when she started getting cozy with this other young man who started to dance with her. I was quite relieved she did not go home with him, of course. On her way home, however, she turned into this alley, and then turned around and told me to come out of wherever I was hiding. And at the moment I was behind a dustbin, and I had gone to remove the Disillusionment charm I'd placed on myself, only to realize that _that_night, I'd forgotten. And that was how she'd managed to see me. I stepped out from behind the dustbins, and er…uh-ha…was a little intimidated by the fury on her face.

"I took a deep breath and started to explain the situation with You-Know-Who, and how he and his Death Eaters murder Muggles for fun, and she got angry with me, and we were arguing, and then the man with whom she'd been dancing so cozily at the night club appeared…out of nowhere. Joanne didn't realize what that meant, but I on the other hand, had an inkling, because I, being a wizard, knew how Apparition worked—how when one Apparates, they can _seem_to appear out of nowhere. And then I realized that I recognized the man, and knew he was no Muggle, but was, in fact, a wizard, by the name of Michel Dolohov.

"He was already pinned as one of You-Know-Who's earliest Death Eaters. You may have heard of his son, Antonin?"

Remus blinked. "I—I _have _heard of him, actually." As a matter of fact, he had not only _heard_of Antonin Dolohov: he had _met_ him once.

John nodded. "Well, pardon the cliché, but Michel Dolohov had a murderous gleam in his eye that night. I was staring at him fearfully, but your mother's face was amused. She asked him what he was doing here. She wasn't afraid at all. She was laughing blithely, completely unaware how dangerous this man was. She didn't even seem to notice the ominous way he was smiling at her as he drew out his wand. I drew out mine too the moment I saw him go for his. But I wished at once I had somehow managed to get mine out _before_him, inconspicuously, because before I could utter an incantation, he—he put her under the Cruciatus Curse…. I don't know if you know this as well, but his son is believed to be behind the mounting cases of Muggle torture in recent months."

"Like father, like son, then," said Remus quietly. He spoke rather tentatively. His father had run a hand through his brown hair, and was now rubbing the back of his neck with it. His face had drained of color while recounting these events, and Remus had never in his life seen his father look so shaken—except of course when Remus awoke after the night he'd been attacked by the werewolf that had branded him for life with a single nip on the shoulder.

John glanced at him. "Yes," he said softly. "Like father, like son. Anyway…." He took a deep breath and let his hand drop to his side. "I heard her screams…saw her topple and fall to her hands and knees…through her pain she demanded to know what the hell was going on…she looked up at him, and at last saw the twisted smile on his twisted, evil face and the wand in his hand pointing at her—she didn't know it was a wand, exactly, I suppose, but she knew it was what was at that moment causing her such agony. Or she _guessed_, at any rate. I had never felt such a rush of—of emotions come over me: fear, anguish, rage...with my love for her acting as a momentum, lifting them to the extreme, so that I not only _felt_fear, but my mouth _dried up _with it, and I not only _felt _anguish, but my heart _cried out _with it, and I not only _felt _rage, but…my veins _crackled _with it—and the next thing I knew I was roaring an Impediment Jinx at him, and I sent him smacking into the alley wall with a crack that even now disturbs me."

"Why does it disturb you?"

"I had broken his spine. In fact, my Jinx had been so powerful that it had all but shattered it. And from what I understood from Ministry authorities later on, when they'd mended it at St. Mungo's, they were unable to do so without leaving it deformed. And thus it was _my _doing that Michel Dolohov spent the rest of his life as a hunchback."

This last sentence sent a chill up Remus' _own _spine. Clearing his throat, he asked, "But was the curse off Mum then?"

John's lips parted into a smile that was slight and tender in a way that made it appear wistful. "Yes, it was…. I…I helped her up and took her in my arms—God I couldn't remember ever shaking so badly—and then,"—He chuckled, his features brightening immensely—"I asked her, 'Do you believe me _now_?' And of course, she did, and well…you basically know the rest of the story." He looked over at Remus, his eyes bright with paternal adoration.

Remus turned to gaze out at the lawn, at the sunset—the trees of the forest all around them silhouetting black against the blood-red sky. He heaved a sigh and said, "Dad…I think I'm in love."

Later that evening, Remus lay out on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with his hands folded beneath his head. The advice his father had given him a few minutes ago on the porch churned in his mind.

"_If you love her—_truly _love her—don't let _anything _stand in your way, son…._"

Remus had only decided to let James have her because he'd never dreamed in a million years that any female of any species would ever return his love. Or even love him, _regardless_ of whether or not he loved_them_. But the fact that Lily had kissed him..._willingly_ kissed him….

_She can't want me: she won't want me once…my lycanthropy will just ruin it in the end. Right_now _she may not care, but she'll care if we ever get…intimate…she'll see what I'm like when I'm like that…and it'll repulse her_, he thought. _Besides, she and I are too much alike: she and James are a far better fit. They balance each other out. And…her kiss may not have even meant anything…._ He found this idea hurt a little, so he closed his eyes and turned his ruminations to something else on his mind: Antonin Dolohov.

In Remus' first year, Michel Dolohov's only son had been a Slytherin seventh-year. One January afternoon, shortly after the Christmas holidays, Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter had been enjoying a good snowball fight, and Remus had had the misfortune at one point to miss his target—Sirius—and instead his icy, spherical missile had collided with the side of Antonin's head while he and his two best mates—Evan Rosier and Rudolphus Lestrange—were heading up to the castle.

Antonin yelled and whirled around. His gaze fell immediately on Remus. Without hesitation he advanced, before James or Sirius had a chance to come to his aid. Yet he did not advance like a brutish gorilla. He swaggered, and there was a wicked grin on his pale and twisted face.

"All right there, squirt?" he taunted. "You'd be that Lupin kid, wouldn't you?" Evan and Rudolphus were sniggering on either side of him. Remus vaguely recalled that Rudolphus had once mentioned in a casual, yet smug way that his paternal uncle had been one of Voldemort's schoolmates while they'd been at Hogwarts together.

Remus said nothing. He stared up at these seventeen-year old wizards towering over him as he shivered in his eleven-year old skin.

"You're a quiet erk, aren't you?" he teased, his cold blue eyes boring into the mild brown umber of Remus'.

Remus struggled to remain resolute and maintain eye contact.

"He looks just like a thing like _him_would, of course," Antonin added softly, his smile twisting his already twisted visage even more horribly. "Daddy Lupin's watch shop made him a skint little _cub_."

Remus gulped, fearing the worst, and all he could think was: _How does he _know_? How did _he _know what I am? _Then, to his intense relief, he felt James and Sirius on either side of him, with Peter hovering somewhere behind, and he felt his whole being flood not only with strength, but also with fraternal gratitude and affection.

At their appearance, Antonin said, "Ooh, lookee here, boys: I think Loopy's chums here want to have a go at us."

Rudolphus had raised his eyebrows, and his cruel smile had widened. His gaze was fixed on Sirius. "Hey! It's him! That's the nasty blighter right there!" The lazy gesture he made with his hand to Sirius contrasted with the excitement in his voice.

"Who?" asked Evan, as he and Antonin turned their attention to Sirius as well.

"Bella's squicky brat cousin," Rudolphus replied with pleasurable contempt. "Oh," he added, laughing mockingly at Sirius' perplexed expression. "You don't _know_ about me and Bella, _do_ you? She tells me all the time how she'd like to play a game with you and the Cruciatus Curse."

"That Bella's a feisty one, mate," said Antonin in a congratulatory sort of tone, clapping Rudolphus on the shoulder. "Choicest selection of the Black sisters, if you ask me."

"Well, the middle one, Narcissa—" Evan began.

"The white-haired bird?" Antonin interrupted.

"Yeah, her. She's not so bad. Bit of an ice queen though."

"Not to young Lucius, I hear…."

"Oh _really_…?

"Well, she's a far sight better than the _baby_," Rudolphus commented scornfully. The next word out of his mouth, which he pronounced as if it were acid on his tongue, was: "_Andromeda_."

Remus felt Sirius grow taught beside him, and knew his friend had just tightly clenched his fists.

"You mean that Ravenclaw fourth-year bird that looks like Bella?" asked Evan.

"Never guess she was a Black, would you?" Rudolphus said, grinning maniacally. "Bella tells me the manky blood-traitor's got a wee crush on the Hufflepuff prefect—you know, the Mudblood, Ted Tonks." Under his breath he added, "Cacky tart."

Sirius leapt at him in a flash of his black winter cloak like a dog going for the throat of its victim. Although considering Sirius' height compared to Rudolphus', Sirius couldn't quite reach Rudolphus' throat. Instead he managed to ram himself into Rudolphus' stomach, knocking the wind out of him. "You take that back you bleeding wanker!" he roared, clawing madly with his hands, even as Antonin grabbed him by the neck of his cloak and pulled him off of Rudolphus as if he were doing nothing more than plucking a puppy up by the scruff of the neck.

He then tossed Sirius aside unceremoniously into the snow.

Peter squealed, while Remus and James each took an arm and helped Sirius back onto his feet.

"You see how jumped up those blood-traitors get?" said Rudolphus savagely. "They're all mental, the lot of them!"

"All the more reason to weed out the little buggers," growled Evan.

"But not before we deal with the Mudbloods and filth," said Antonin contemptuously. He rounded on Remus, his fists clenched. "Don't think I don't know, Loopy. Don't think I don't know about your _father_. Don't think I don't know that _your_ father, the great-great-grandson of a squicky Mudblood, was the dirty bastard who crippled _my_father, forcing him to live in misery until the day he died!" He was roaring now, and as he did he drew out his wand from within the folds of his cloak and pointed it at Remus.

Before Remus, James, Sirius, or Peter could react, a jet of red light burst forth from the end of Antonin's wand and hit Remus squarely on the nose. There was a sickening CRACK, and pain erupted where the spell had struck: an intense, throbbing pain, that made Remus' eyes water as he cried out, fell to his knees, and clutched his nose, which he now realized with horror was not only bleeding freely, but also now protruding from his face at an odd angle. His eyes watering, he blinked up at Antonin, who still bristled with fury.

As a manic gleam showed in his eye, he growled, "And don't think I don't know what you _are_either! I can_sense_ it!" He raised his wand. "_Avada_—rrggghhh!"  


The rest of the spell was lost as Antonin's mouth rapidly filled with bubbles and soap. James and Sirius had both attempted spells on Antonin, only to be stopped by Evan and Rudolphus with a Stunning Spell each. And so Peter—of all people—had managed to step in right in the nick of time and hurl a Cleaning Spell at Antonin.

Antonin fell to his knees as he violently coughed and choked on the soapy suds.

"What's going on here?" a brusque voice demanded behind the three seventh-year Slytherins.

Everyone except Antonin whirled around to see Professor McGonagall approaching them. And at her heels was a small girl by the name of Alice Cadell. Remus had often seen her and Lily talking together over meals in the Great Hall and homework in the Gryffindor common room or in the library.

The sixteen-year old Remus shivered on his bed. It chilled him to realize that Antonin had tried to kill him that day. At first he couldn't believe that a seventeen-year old could be capable of such things, but then again, Antonin was now a suspected Death Eater, and the more Remus thought about it, the more he believed it would make perfect sense that all of Voldemort's Death Eaters had probably gained the confidence to murder without thought at the age of seventeen. Voldemort himself had no doubt already murdered before he'd even left school.

Remus turned over and closed his eyes. He hadn't meant to fall asleep entirely, but he did. Voices from the past arose from his subconscious mind to his consciousness…and he heard himself laughing as a seven-year old as his father hung him upside down by his ankles….

_"Daddy…! Daddy, stop! Quick!"_

_"Oh, of course!" his father laughed as he put Remus right side up again and set him back down onto his feet. "Off to stargaze, then?"_

_"Yep!" Remus went into his father's arms and gave him a squeeze before he dashed from the sitting room and out into the front hall._

_"Remus! Remus, love, where are you going?" he heard his mother demand from the kitchen as he grasped the handle of the front door of their house._

_"I'm going outside!" he called back over his shoulder._

_His mother came out of the kitchen and into the front hall, her hands on her hips. "Remus John Lupin, are you out of your mind? It's dark out!_And _it's past your bedtime to boot!"_

_"It's not _that _dark out, Mum! The stars and the moon are out and they're all so bright! Please, Mummy, I want to go look at them! Please, please,_please_!" He begged with his hands folded together in supplication, and he was bouncing earnestly on the balls of his feet._

_They heard his father laugh again from where Remus had left him in the sitting room. "Come on now, Jo! Let him have a little fun! You know how crazy he is about the night sky!"_

_"Thanks, Daddy!" said Remus. He gave his slightly-taken-aback mother a hug too. Then he spun around and wrenched the door open. As he ran outside onto the front porch it seemed his mother had regained the power of speech, because next he heard her exclaim from inside the house, "Remus!—John! Don't you know tonight's a full…?!" But her words were lost as he continued to race down the front porch steps and out onto the front lawn._

_He spread his arms wide open and drank in the sight of the gleaming white full moon and the bright stars that illuminated the tops of the trees and everything in the clearing in which the Lupins' house resided with silver light. The spectacle took his breath away. As of now, Remus dreamed of a future in the subject of astronomy. Maybe he could even discover a new planet—or even a new galaxy—and then they'd name it after him..._

_He heard a rustling in the trees behind him, and low growling. He whipped around and at the edge of the clearing, from out of the darkness of the trees, he saw a dark, furry shape emerge. The shape looked like a huge, black dog with a grey streak running along its hunched back. It bore its sharp, pearly white teeth that sparkled with saliva in the moonlight, and growled even louder._

_Remus was so terrified he couldn't move. In fact, the only movement that continued anywhere in his body was that of his fiercely pounding heart. Even his lungs were still, for his fear was so great that he could not breathe._

_The feral creature reared back its head and howled hauntingly—it was a sound that for a moment, took Remus' fear away and replaced it with wonder, yet the fear returned as the beast charged. The most Remus could manage in an attempt at flight from it was a single staggering backwards step._

_The bounding monster stopped short of him and then leapt, its enormous, clawed front paws outstretched._

_Remus screamed._

_The paws hit Remus square in the chest, knocking the breath of out of his tiny body as he was pinned flat to the ground, strangling the sound of his cry. He whimpered with wide eyes, and gasped as the weight of the brute slowly crushed painfully down on his lungs. It raised one paw and slashed at his right shoulder. He yelled with a sharp intake of breath as fresh pain seared where the claws had torn at his flesh. The rip of cloth told him that his now bleeding shoulder was vulnerably exposed._

_He heard a woman scream, "REMUS!" somewhere to his left: his mother. Wildly he looked over to see her and his father burst from the house. His father was a few steps ahead of his mother, already running down the steps, his wand raised as he shot spell after spell at the monster. "GET AWAY FROM MY SON!" he was roaring at it. Over his shoulder he added, "JOANNE, STAY _BACK_!"_

_But it seemed the hexes weren't powerful enough, and only worked to irk the beast. Snarling, it flung out the paw it had used to tear at Remus and shoved John away, knocking him to the ground._

_"JOHN!" his mother shrieked._

_"DADDY!" wailed Remus. And then he felt more pain in his already burning, bleeding shoulder, as rows of the beast's pointed teeth rent more flesh in a single, fleeting nip that lasted less than a second—yet the agony was so exquisite that the monster could have been sinking its teeth fully into his shoulder and biting down for over a minute. Even long after the thing had pounded away, retreating into the darkness, it felt like it was still there, gnawing on him. "Mummy...Daddy…" he panted, his breathing labored as darkness enclosed him._

_But the voices of his parents followed him long after he'd gone under._

_"Remus! John! Oh God! Oh God, he's dead! John, he's dead! He's dead!"_

_"Joanne, he's not, he's not! See, he's breathing. He's breathing, Joanne, he's breathing."_

_"Barely! Oh God he's dying! John, do something, he's dying! Oh my baby! My baby!"_

_"Let's get him into the house, quick…I know a healer we can summon…he's the best there is…he's an old friend of mine…."_

_His mother continued to sob…._

Even as he opened his eyes to the morning sunshine streaming through his bedroom window, he could still hear her sobbing...it was coming from down the hall….

Wait…she was sobbing for _real_!

He sat bolt upright, and right at that moment he heard a knock on his door. As his mother was down the hall, sobbing, it had to be his father. "Dad?"

The door opened and his father entered the room, his features looking careworn. "'Morning, Remus." He managed a slight smile despite his grim visage. "Did you sleep in your _clothes_?"

"Yeah," said Remus. "What's the matter with Mum? What's happened?"

The amusement died completely from John Lupin's face. "A lot," he sighed. "Early this morning your mother had an appointment with her Muggle doctor, and when she got home, there was a letter waiting for her." He came over and sat down on the edge of the bed beside Remus. "The letter said that her entire family—her_Muggle_family that was so embarrassed to have a wizard—me—for a son-in-law that they refused to ever even _meet_you—was tortured and murdered by several bands of You-Know-Who's Death Eaters."

Remus stared devastated at his father. The loss of life always seemed to affect Remus in some way, even if he'd never met the person or people who had died.

"Now, according to the Order—"

"Order? What order?" Remus interrupted without thinking.

"Oh, ah, the Order of the Phoenix: they're a secret society fighting against You-Know-Who's forces right now. Very few people know about them, except people they're hoping to recruit as members. I think the Death Eater's know about a resistance, but hopefully they don't know about the Order itself. I've only learned about them because…they've been asking me to join."

Remus' heart leapt into his throat. "Are you going to?" he asked.

John heaved another sigh. "I am not sure, Remus…. I _want _to—I'm _willing _to risk my life if it means possibly getting rid of You-Know-Who and his evil that threatens the lives of you and your mother. I'd—I'd give—I'd—I'd do anything to keep you both safe..." His voice grew tight and thick. He swallowed and went on. "But, I do not know if I can leave your mother to go off and fight dark wizards and evil forces…not in the state she's in right now…what with losing her whole childhood family and—and—something else…."

Remus furrowed his brow. "_What _else?"

John hesitated. "I told you that she went to her Muggle doctor early this morning, correct?"

Remus nodded.

"Well…she found out…." He sighed and started over. "Remus, your mother is going to have another baby."

Remus moaned, bent over and cradled his forehead in his hands. In his life, his mother had gotten pregnant three times, since giving birth to him. And all three of those pregnancies had ended in tragic miscarriages, each of which was followed by a dismal spell of depression. Yet for some reason, after her third miscarriage, she had refused to go on birth control, or, if she got pregnant again, to even consider getting an abortion. This had led Remus to believe that his mother had badly wanted another baby—and one that was her own—because she wanted to be able to have a "normal" child, one that she would make sure—come hell or high water—would never become a hideous, monstrous werewolf. This caused Remus' heart to sting.

This was back when he was fourteen.

He could still remember confronting his mother about it….

"Remus, your mother is resting right now…."

"Dad, I _need _to talk to her," Remus told his father urgently. "It's important."

"Alright," said John. He knocked on his and Joanne's bedroom door softly. "Jo?"

"John?" Remus' mother's voice replied sleepily from within.

"Remus would like to have a word with you. Is that okay?"

"Oh, yes! Remus, love, come in."

Remus moved past his father and entered the bedroom. He saw his mother sitting up in bed, her long blonde hair teased and disheveled, dark circles around her eyes. She blinked up at him and smiled fragilely.

Remus sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. He looked up at her and saw her gazing at him with bright eyes. "Mum, I have something to ask you about…about…." He sighed and looked away. He couldn't bear to meet her eyes. "You're not…trying to have another baby to _replace me_, _are _you?"

"Oh Remus," Joanne moaned, and the next thing he knew, his mother had enfolded him in her arms and was squeezing him tight, crying softly into his hair. "No, of course not, baby. I love _you_so much…it's just…I don't want to keep myself from having another one…. Although at this rate, your father and I may never have another baby, but _never _think that he and I don't love you..."

Remus wrapped his arms around her. "I'm sorry I said anything, Mum…. I just thought maybe you wanted a fresh start, you know? A kid who wasn't a…a monster."

"Remus John Lupin," Joanne said firmly, pulling back to look into his eyes as she cupped his face in her hands. "You are _not _a monster. The _monster inside_ you is a monster, but _you _are _not_ a monster." She kissed him hard on his forehead, sniffed and brushed a few bangs out of his eyes.

Remus didn't realize it until just then, but he too had tears in his eyes. It was all so much…his mother didn't want to replace him…she loved him…had always loved him, despite his affliction…. A loving mother through and through…and the moment reminded him of times he'd skinned his knee, or of when some neighbor kid had made fun of him, and he'd always gone running to her, letting her pick him up and hold him in her arms while he cried into her shoulder.


	12. The Beast

**Chapter Twelve**

**The Beast**

The very next day was Sunday, and the afternoon was living up to that day's name, as it was beautifully sunny and warm indeed. Out in a patch of grass near the lake, in the shade of a beech tree he had once read about his father sitting beneath as James and Sirius tortured young Snape, Ted was now beneath it himself, lying out on the grass in the company of Victoire, who was lying beside him, her right hand joined with his left. He had his free hand tucked beneath his head.

Both of them were gazing upward through the tree branches, through which pallid sunlight was filtering. He had just finished telling her everything he'd found out so far from the Answers box. He was finding it tiring actually, to keep Rodger, and now Victoire as well, up to date. He hoped he had enough spark left in him to fill Harry in as well. The only problem was that he wasn't sure when he'd find time to write such an incredibly long letter: a letter that would no doubt grow to the size of a novel. Literally.

"What do you want to do once you leave school?" Victoire asked him after a moment of comfortable silence.

_Thank God she asked me an easy question._"I'm taking classes to qualify for Auror training," said Ted, unable to hold back a smile. "Just like my mum."

"Oh, yeah, that's right…."

"What do _you_want to do once _you_leave school?"

"Right now I think I'd like to work for Gringotts. Be a curse-breaker like my dad."

"What's the attraction?"

Victoire's tone was a tad sensual. "There's a bit of glamour in it."

Ted smiled. "Mmm…."

"Victoire!"

Ted looked over at Victoire, who was looking over at where the voice had come from. They both raised their heads up off the ground slightly, and saw a red-headed boy and girl approaching them. Ted knew who they were at once.

The one who had called her name was her sister, Dominique, who was currently in her third year. Behind her was Victoire's brother, Louis, who was in his second year. Both of them, like Victoire, had inherited the famous "Weasley red hair".

Dominiuqe happened to be rather good-looking for her age, just as Victoire was very good-looking (Well she was _more_than that in Ted's opinion, but that's beside the point.). Her red hair was done up in braided pigtails. At present, however, Dominique appeared quite displeased. Her jaw was set, and her brow was furrowed, her gaze intense and full of warning not to get on the wrong side of her. She stopped a few feet away from them, her fists clenched at her sides as she glared at Ted and Victoire.

"You're in big trouble, Vicky," said Louis, his hands folded behind his back.

"_Tais-toi_, I can handle this, Louis," Dominique scolded.

Ted chuckled, because Victoire also regularly switched between French and English when it was convenient—or when she felt like it.

Louis chose to ignore his older sister and waved to Ted, a smile gracing his freckly features. "Hello, Teddy!" he called.

"Louis!" Dominique stamped her foot. "Argh!" She rounded on Ted in frustration. "Lupin! You had better be a good boyfriend to her, or you can bet that _I_ will have something to say about it! I may be younger than her, but I'm still her sister, _and _I happen to be pretty good with a wand! I don't care if you're three years ahead of me: you don't _scare _me for a minute! And as for _you_—" Now she rounded on Victoire "—_Pourquoi est-ce que tu ne m'as pas dit que maintenant tu as un nouveau copain, et j'ai dû le découvrir de mes amis?_"

Victoire turned to Ted. "Will you excuse us a minute?"

"Sure," said Ted, releasing his hold on her hand. He watched her get up and lead Dominique over a little ways away from him and Louis.

Louis looked at his watch. "Oh, Ted, I'd better go. Er…I have this—this big important thing right now! Bye!" And before Ted could say a word, he spun around and sped off towards the castle at a brisk walk, leaving Ted with nothing but the wonderful sounds of Victoire and Dominique arguing with each other in rapid, indistinct French.

His nose began prickling. He sneezed. He conjured a tissue and wiped his nose.

In the bushes nearby, he heard a stick crack.

He whipped around to face them. He wished he had the Marauders' Map with him right then: he wanted to see if it was—

"Ted?"

Ted looked around, shaking his head slightly, and saw Victoire and Dominique striding towards him.

Victoire sat down beside him on the grass.

Dominque stopped and said to him, "Remember, Lupin: I'm watching you." She glanced about and then asked him, "Where's Louis?"

"Er…he went back up to the castle," said Ted.

"Hmmm." Dominque stared at Ted a moment longer, scrutinizing him, and then turned on her heel and went on her own way back up to the castle.

Ted and Victoire looked at each other a moment, and then laughed as they lay back down on the grass. This time Victoire snuggled right up against Ted, tucking her head beneath his chin. Ted was aware of the sweet smell of her—lilac and cacao (which Ted just realized was a prime ingredient in that delicious chocolate he and Victoire both craved so much)—and he felt his blood pound with excitement: an excitement that not only fueled the growing flame in his heart, but also a faintly, steadily growing flame down below….

He put his arms around her, taking a moment to bask in the sheer glory of holding her, and holding her so close at that. "Will you teach me French?" he whispered.

She looked up at him, her brown eyes sparkling. "Gladly," she whispered back. She lifted herself up onto her elbow, laying a hand on his chest.

He was certain she could feel the rapid beating of his heart. God, she was beautiful. Was it possible that his first love was his true love too? It obviously hadn't turned out that way for his father…but could it turn out that way for _him_?

Wait a minute…. _Love_…? Who said anything about _love_? He'd just had a crush on her.

For two years.

Straight.

And now here she was…in his arms….

_Was _he in love?

But how _could_he be? She was only his first. Rodger had had hundreds of girls before Cecilia had come along. Wouldn't there be hundreds more before he found the girl for _him _too…?

"Ted?" Victoire was gazing at him with slight concern.

"Sorry," he said, rather hoarsely. "I just…space out…sometimes…."

She chuckled. "Yes, I've noticed."

"God, you're beautiful."

Victoire's eyes widened, and for a moment she seemed stunned. Then she smiled, perhaps a little nervously even.

Hesitantly, Ted took one hand and cupped her face in it. It trembled the moment her soft cheek rested against the flesh of his palm.

She closed her eyes and before he knew it her lips were on his, and he too closed his eyes as ecstasy roared through him, making him rub his legs together, and then against her legs, which were also rubbing against each other. Swiftly and gently he turned her over so that now she was on her back and he was half-laying on top of her. As he pinned her there he deepened the kiss. She squealed with delight, and then she turned him back over and they returned to the way they were before, with him on his back and her half-laying on top of him. They broke the kiss, and for a moment gazed breathlessly into each other's eyes. She giggled and snuggled down beside him, laying her head on his chest and wrapping her arms around him.

* * *

He wrapped his around her, burying his face in her wonderful, fiery hair, his mind buzzing as they both drifted off into an afternoon doze laying there beneath the beech tree in each other's embrace.

That night Quidditch went late again. It was dark by the time their team captain, Morgan Wood, who played as one of the Chasers, decided to call it a night. Ted and Rodger were walking behind everyone else as they all made their way up to the castle, carrying the brooms over their shoulders.

"So, how are things with you and Cecilia?" Ted asked.

Rodger smiled. "I really like her, Ted. I mean I _really_like her. I've never felt this way about a bird before. If there was any way we were going to break it off, it'd have to be _her_doing the breaking, not me. I couldn't leave her."

"What if she cheats on you?"

"She wouldn't." His tone was so full of conviction that Ted thought it wise not to argue with him on the matter.

"How are things with you and Victoire?" Rodger asked him.

Ted grinned with rising warmth inside him as he thought of yesterday afternoon. "Wonderfully," he replied in a voice so soft that Rodger almost couldn't hear him. Raising his voice a little more he said, "I asked her to give me some French lessons. I've got my _first_lesson tomorrow at lunch."

"Oooh."

Ted's nose started prickling again. It was very intense. Whatever his internal alarm-system was detecting had to be close by. Either that or it was far away but there was a large quantity of it. Or _them_.

He had a feeling that whatever it was, it was somewhere in the Forbidden Forest, the edge of which he and Rodger were walking near. He stopped and looked over at the trees, feeling that just beyond his range of vision, there in the darkness, someone was watching him.

_Liane Géroux…._

"Ted?"

Ted saw that Rodger had stopped a couple steps ahead of him. The moon had yet to rise, so it was still too dark to clearly see the expression on his best friend's face from a distance.

"You go on ahead," said Ted. "I'll be up in a minute." He looked at the forest again.

Rodger must have followed his gaze and roughly guessed what he was thinking, because the next thing he said was, "Ted, you're a nutter to just waltz in there."

"I've got my wand," said Ted, facing his friend again. "And I'm pretty good with it. I _am_working to qualify for Auror training once I graduate."  


Rodger tilted his head. "Liane Géroux?"

Ted nodded.

Rodger sighed. "Just be careful. You want me to take your broom up for you?"

"Yeah, sure, that'd be great." He handed Rodger his Firebolt 3000. "Cheers."

"Cheers," said Rodger, turning around and continuing up the slope.

Once he was out of sight, Ted spun on his heel as if directly confronting the forest. He became aware of his thudding heartbeat. He took one step, and then another, and then another until he reached the trees. He glanced over his shoulder at the dark outline of the castle, absently reaching up and touching the trunk of a tree that stood nearby.

He noticed the night grow brighter. Looking to the mountains, he saw that the moon was beginning to rise now. _That's good_, he thought. _Now I'll be able to see better._He took a deep breath and stepped into the dark trees.

He picked his way through the shivering pines and elms and sycamores, vaguely pondering how the forest could be so cold even in the depths of spring. He saw the first rays of moonlight reflecting off of the wet leaves, and gradually his eyes became accustomed to the darkness. He used his nose as his guide, doubling back when the prickling weakened and trying new directions, and repeating the process until he went in a direction that caused the prickle to intensify, whereupon he eagerly quickened his step. Several times he nearly tripped and caught himself only just in time.

The forest became fully illuminated with silvery moonbeams filtering through the foliage. It was nearly as bright as day, and this caused a slightly tense knot to form in Ted's stomach, because he knew: the brighter the moonlight, the fuller the moon….

He looked up and saw…the moon, full…a perfect circle in the sky….

It was not long before the worst conclusion towards which he had been sluggishly groping was confirmed.

His very breath and heart both stopped cold as a mournful howl filled the night air, like the blade of a knife being plunged slowly into its victim.

_Werewolf…._

Ted had never heard one howl before, but he knew that nothing else could have made that sound, for there were no normal wolves in Britain. For a moment, the long, drawn out howl that he heard now hypnotized him, and he stood there lit by a single shaft of moonshine, transfixed, his mouth slightly open.

He was jerked from his trance when his nose burst without warning with prickling so intense it was like painful shocks of electricity were going through it. He dropped his wand as both his hands flew to his nose, clutching it, while he fell to his knees, giving muffled yells and moans. He forgot the pain momentarily however, when a new sound cut the air—one that sent his seemingly stilled heart thumping wildly in his chest, and restarted his held breath at a shallow pace—for what he heard now was vicious snarls.  


They were getting louder too…and the prickling…was getting…more and more…painfully intense…which meant the werewolf…was getting closer to where _he_was….

His brain was yelling something at him…something about his legs…but his legs didn't seem to listen, and _he_wasn't listening either. All he could do was stare ahead of him, where the shrieks and snarls were coming from. He felt the earth tremble beneath him from pounding feet upon the forest floor. He heard the pounding feet as well, also drawing nearer…and nearer….

Ahead of him, he saw a large shadow hurtling towards him.

The head of the werewolf emerged from the darkness and became illuminated by the rays of streaming moonbeams, and then the rest of its body—half a normal wolf larger than a normal wolf, dark gray, bristle-haired, and hunchbacked. It landed on all fours, sniffing the air—for _him_.

At last the message from his brain was coming in: _Run, you idiot! Run!_

The werewolf growled, fixing him with its hungry stare, its eyes glowing with that eerie yellow caused by the moonlight that reflected off of the tapetum lucidum behind its eyes.

Inside Ted there was a scream bursting to get out, but he was too full of shock and terror to let it out. He couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare agog at the werewolf.

Then it threw back its head…and howled.

And just as his father had been all those years ago, Ted too found himself oddly awestruck by the hauntingly mesmerizing sound of the werewolf's mournful howl—which seemed to even numb the pain in his nose from the wildly intense prickling. But the trance was broken and the prickling returned the moment the beast stopped and snarled. Since Ted was so terrified that his mind was blanking on what part of the werewolf was the vulnerable spot, he did not have a chance to raise his wand in defense before the werewolf charged and pinned him down flat onto his back, expelling the breath from his body, and knocking his wand out of his hand, his cry of pain and fear strangled upon the creature's impact.

His heart and breath were both going a mile a minute at a rapid yet nonetheless steady rhythm. He gazed up wide-eyed into the eyes of the werewolf.

The werewolf drooled saliva from its mouth onto the front of his robes.

Ted felt as if his nose was filled with crackling sparks, and that it might even burst into flame any second. The pain caused his eyes to water, and through the blur of lachrymose he made out the creature glaring down at him…could feel its hot, moist, dog-like breath upon his face. The monster held him down at the shoulders, and it held him there in a way that gave his shoulders and partially his collarbone a sharp, prolonging pain. Perhaps it was a desperate attempt to escape all the pain that was being thrust upon him at once, but suddenly while half his mind remained in the present, the other half floated back to the past of a life that was not even his own.

_Remus Lupin whimpered with wide eyes, and gasped as the weight of the brute slowly crushed painfully down on his lungs._

Ted cried out mentally for both his parents—his mother as well as his father, wishing there was some way they could protect him from beyond the grave.

_Remus heard a woman scream, "REMUS!" somewhere to his left: his mother. Wildly he looked over to see her and his father burst from the house._

The werewolf licked its chops anticipatorily, and raised its left front paw that was pressing down on Ted's right shoulder, its claws glimmering in the lunar radiance that streamed through from above.

_ Remus' father was a few steps ahead of his mother, already running down the steps, his wand raised as he shot spell after spell at the monster._

Ted realized with great horror that the werewolf's target was his stomach: it wasn't in the mood for biting and infecting—it was in the mood to _eat_…to _devour_ human flesh….

_His _human flesh!

_"GET AWAY FROM MY SON!" his father was roaring at the werewolf…._

The werewolf made to strike, but was stopped in its tracks, and gave a whine of pain as something equally large and furry came leaping out of nowhere and threw itself into the werewolf's side, knocking it clean off of Ted, and bringing both itself and the werewolf rolling down onto the ground beside Ted.

Ted meanwhile wasted no time lying about. He rolled over in the opposite direction—towards where his wand lay on the ground. Deftly he snatched it up in his right hand and leapt to his feet to face the fray ensuing before him.

The werewolf and the large, furry something were tumbling around and around in the leaves, claws slashing and jaws snapping. Then the werewolf gave a kick with its hind leg and sent it flying into the nearest tree, where it slumped to the ground. It sprang back into action momentarily, but not before Ted realized that the werewolf's opponent was _another werewolf_—a black one, like his father had been. It also appeared to be just slightly smaller than the dark gray, and it also appeared to have less bristle to its coarse fur, but there was no underestimating the ferocity in its eyes as it locked them with the werewolf that had nearly had Ted for its moonlit meal.

Ted decided that now was the perfect time to run for his life. But he was stopped despite his madly crackling nose when he saw the dark gray one leap and—before the black one even had a chance—clamped its jaws tight onto the back of the black one's neck, causing the black one to give a pitiful shriek of pain. As it struggled to break free, it caught sight of Ted standing there dumbstruck and clutching his wand. It snarled at him, snapping its jaws and growling.

With a great jerk of its head and a well-aimed kick in the larger werewolf's chest with its hind leg, it broke free at last. As it staggered away from its whimpering opponent, it growled, snarled, and snapped its jaws at Ted again. In its yellow eyes, Ted could have sworn he was reading a message in them…a message from whatever poor human soul existed presently dormant within the wolf:

_Get out of here. Now._

It snapped its jaws at him again, just before the larger werewolf rammed into its side, knocking it to the ground.

Ted's nose was fit to explode from the intensity of the painful, smarting crackling prickling in it. But now that he was sure he knew what the prickling was roused by, he knew that the only way to get it to stop was to do what he should be doing, what this smaller werewolf that had come to his rescue out of nowhere desperately wanted him to do: run away.

Without further hesitation, he spun on his heel and sprinted through the forest, the prickling sensation gradually dissipating as he did so.

Understandably, of course, the only reason it had taken so long really for Ted to act on this decision is because true Gryffindors hardly ever consider running away as an option for action. They often have to be ordered to do it, or coerced into doing it by some means. Sometimes it's merely because their common sense finally kicks in. However, it is especially hard for them to do it, when they see someone—or something—in trouble, and feel a powerful urge to stay behind and help them. This is the feeling that had overcome Ted when he'd seen the bigger werewolf clamp its jaws onto the back of the smaller one's neck.

This feeling stayed with him even as he fled. Repeatedly, he glanced over his shoulder at the fray that shrunk in the distance as he ran. This caused him not to see the root sticking up out of the ground, and so he was unable to evade it and thusly his foot caught on it and he tripped.

His wand flew from his hand. Again. And he fell hard to the earth onto his hands and knees. He cursed under his breath, remaining on his hands and knees to search for his wand.

He felt the prickle in his nose intensify again, and realized with dread that the werewolves were on the move, heading in his direction. Panicking, he searched even more frantically for his fallen wand.

His nose was about to blow up—

A great weight fell into Ted's back, and sharp claws sank into it, right through the fabric. He yelled out and was pinned flat again, this time on his stomach. His mind raced—desperately he tried to remember what the vulnerable spot was: was it the eyes? No! That was for dragons…not that it mattered anyway…he still didn't have his wand back….

His nose crackled and sparked on the verge of rupturing. His heart went hammering, and he could scarcely breathe for the weight of the werewolf crushed his lungs.

He knew it was going to go for his neck. All it had to do was fasten its teeth onto it, just as it had with the smaller, black werewolf, and his head would be half-severed from his body….

The crushing weight lifted miraculously, and Ted inhaled painfully. He rolled over onto his back, and saw that the black werewolf and the gray werewolf were locked once more in a fierce whirl of fur, claws, and teeth. The black one had obviously chased the gray one down, still bent on protecting Ted for some inexplicable reason, and had rescued him for the second time that night.

Then, to Ted's horror, the black one gave a screeching sort of whimper, and was thrown several feet through the air, before it smashed into a tree trunk and fell limp to the ground with a THUNK, where it lay motionless.  


Ted snapped his eyes to the larger gray werewolf, which had now turned its attention onto him. It approached him slowly, allowing him to drink in the very last sight he would ever see in his life—

It drew nearer to him, keeping its slow pace.

The pain of the crackling in Ted's nose was fit to burst, but he was coming to ignore it easily now, though it still made his eyes water.

He slinked backwards on his back, sliding up the roots of a very large old tree, using his elbows and feet to crawl along them.

And then he heard a light clatter on his right, and looked to it to see—his wand!—rolling down the roots on the other side of the tree and onto the natural pathway of the forest floor, away from him. He must have knocked into it with his elbow just now. He whipped his head around in time to see the werewolf rearing back its head for a lunge.

As it lunged, he rolled over to his right, down the roots, and fell flat on his back onto the path. He rolled over onto his hands and knees and scrambled to his feet, spotting his wand a mere five feet away from him further ahead. Vaguely he heard the werewolf to his right growling in fury as it had managed to mangle the roots of the tree instead of him. Trying not to the think of the black werewolf that was probably now dead because it had been fighting to save his life, he ran, snatching his wand up from the ground on the way.

This time he did not look back. Not once. Though he had a powerful urge to do so. He wanted to know if his mysterious werewolf protector _had really_just died while fighting to save him. He found that he did not _want_that to be so.

The death of a werewolf…meant the death of the human being inside.

His parents had died to save him from the cruelty of a world ruled by Voldemort…a world that would have seen him—their son—dead because of his parentage—what with his "half-blood" mother and his "half-breed" father. He didn't want anyone else dying for him…even if they were a total and complete stranger to him in every sense of the word.

Suddenly, he heard a cry of agony so great it shattered the very air around him.

Ted stopped dead in his tracks. Panting, his nose prickling faintly now, he heard the sound peter out in faint whimpers. So the werewolf that had saved him was still alive…but maybe not for long. He spun around, and could just distinguish the outline of a large shadow throwing a smaller, struggling shadow to the ground. He should keep going while he still had a head start on the werewolf that was trying to kill him, but he also wanted to help the smaller one. The terrible hand of indecision had a powerful grip on him now, as he tightly clutched the handle of his wand.

"Ted! Thank God!" gasped a voice behind him.

Ted swiveled and saw Rodger, leaning against a tree as he caught his breath. He saw that he had his own wand out, and his brow crinkled in confusion. "Rodger? How did you—?"

"Are you bleeding mad?!" Rodger cut across him vituperatively. "Didn't you know tonight was a full moon?! I heard the werewolves howling from all the way up in the dormitories! 

And _you_were out here! Come on, we'd better get back before we get caught for being out after hours! Or worse: caught by a _werewolf_!"

"Rodger, I can't leave…. There's…there's something I've got to do first."

"What? _What_do you _have_to do? Come on, Ted. I'm serious! I was prepared to fight a werewolf in the likely event that I'd find _you_mere inches from being slaughtered by one, despite the fact that I have no idea how to _fight_ a werewolf in the first place! So, let's get back before we have to do something that neither of us knows how to do yet! Like _fight werewolves_for instance!"

"You go back if you want, Rodger, but _I'm_ going to fight a werewolf, and I've decided on this of my own freewill too. And don't tell me we don't know how to fight them, because we _do_. We learned way back in third or fourth year, remember?"

"No. _You're_the one who's always got his nose stuck in werewolf books, or some defense book that isn't even required school text! What the bloody hell are you on about, anyway? Why are you deciding out of the blue to go pick a fight with a furry killing machine?"

But Ted did not reply. He had realized right then that he could no longer hear the sounds of the struggle between the two werewolves far behind them. In the worrying silence he listened hard, turning to gaze in the direction where he'd last left them fighting each other.

"Ted, come on, this is—!" Rodger began imploringly, but Ted silenced him with a, "_Shhh_!"

The silence stretched on, and the longer it stretched, the more Ted's stomach churned.

"AAAAAARRRRRRGGGGGGHHH—!"

Ted wheeled on his heel to see Rodger pinned flat on his back by the large gray werewolf. He saw the terror in his best friend's face as the werewolf raised its claw to strike, going for the stomach like it had tried to do with him….

That was it!

The werewolf's most vulnerable point was its stomach!

"_Impedimenta_!" Ted cried, aiming for the gray werewolf's underbelly with his wand.

The gray werewolf went flying sideways off of Rodger and was slammed hard into the trunk of a tree. It landed on its feet as it slid to the ground, and glared directly at Ted. Then it charged.

Rodger grabbed his arm and dragged him out of the way just in time.

The gray werewolf turned and prepared to charge again.

Ted raised his wand with a quavering arm, and felt a rush of gratitude as Rodger raised his as well. "Go for the underbelly," he whispered tremulously to him out of the side of his mouth. "That's his weak point."

"Good to know," Rodger whispered back. Ted could feel him shaking too.

Then, the black werewolf came hurtling out of the trees right behind them. It went around them and leapt onto the gray werewolf's hunched back, clamping its jaws onto the larger one's neck.

Ted and Rodger both lowered their wands and watched, mouths slightly agape, as the black werewolf tore mercilessly at the gray one's back until it was so badly wounded its back was thick and wet with blood. The gray sank to the ground and lay still, breathing heavily and whimpering.

The black one got up off the gray one's back and walked around the gray so that it stood before it. It assumed the position of dominance, with its tail, head, and ears all proudly held high. Ted noticed that it too bore wounds from the battle that had just occurred, but unlike the gray, it had risen victorious in the end.

The gray meanwhile, looked up at the black. For a long moment it stared, and then, in a begrudging sort of way, it held its ears back and tucked its tail beneath it in the posture of submission.

The black nodded to a random direction far off in the woods.

The gray raised itself a few inches of off the ground, keeping its ears back and its tail tucked as it slinked away into the darkness of the trees and disappeared from sight, limping slightly along the way for the undoubtedly excruciating wounds on its hunched back.

The black stared after it for a moment, and then turned to Ted and Rodger, who were both trembling, but not as badly as they had been before.

Rodger gasped and took a step back, raising his wand again.

But Ted grasped his wrist and lowered it. His eyes held Rodger's surprised ones as he said, "It's alright. This one saved me."

Rodger seemed to decide that now was not the best time to argue and simply nodded, lowering his wand completely. He kept it out, however, just in case.

Ted did not put his wand away either. He turned his attention to the black werewolf who had now saved his life three times in a row that night, which was still staring back at him. It lowered its head, its eyes never leaving Ted's.

Ted nodded. "Thank you."

The black werewolf raised its head again and darted off into the trees right as a breeze blew through the forest, causing all the leaves to rustle.

Ted stared after it. "Come on, Rodger. Let's get back to the castle."

Rodger rolled his eyes. "Well that's the first sensible thing you've said since I found you."

"I just wanted to make sure that black one would be alright," said Ted, tearing his eyes from where he'd watched the black werewolf disappear into the shadows.

"And why's that?" Rodger asked as they made their way through the gradually thinning trees. "Because it saved your neck?"  


"Well…yeah. Three times in fact. Twice before you came along and then once after you had."

"Oh, what, did you feel attached to it or something?"

"In a way," Ted admitted as they emerged from the forest and made their way up the slope towards the castle shining from within. Although he hadn't really thought of the idea that he'd felt any sort of "attachment" (as Rodger had put it) until Rodger had suggested it.

"Because of when it saved your life the _first_time tonight?" Rodger inquired lightly, sticking his wand back into his belt.

Ted did the same as he considered his friend's query. "Maybe…." Then he remembered something more important that he needed to tell Rodger. "Oh yeah! There is one good thing about what I did tonight though."

"Are you referring to when you decided to go skipping off into the Forbidden Forest alone at night?" Rodger said facetiously.

"I _am _actually."

"What? No, you're joking!"

"I'm _not_," said Ted, his impish grin widening.

"Okay then. Enlighten me: what good did it do you getting yourself nearly mutilated by a werewolf in its dangerous form?"

They walked up the front stone steps of the castle.

"Well…I figured out what makes my nose prickle."

They both stopped at the oak front doors and faced each other.

"Really?" Rodger smiled expectantly. "And?"

Ted's grin went from impish to smug. "Werewolves."


	13. Pretty Women

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Pretty Women**

Ill from morning sickness, Joanne was unable to accompany Remus and John on the trip to King's Cross that September the first to see Remus off for his sixth year at Hogwarts. After his father had clasped him in a one-armed hug, Remus hurried onto the train. As per usual, there was a book from their school list tucked under his arm, which he would give his customary perusing-through during the train ride. In his search for his friends, he found a compartment that had James, Sirius, and Peter's owls in it, but not James, Sirius, or Peter. He also spotted a note with his name on it lying on the seat. He set his book beside it and picked it up in both hands. He opened the flaps of the parchment and read:

_Moony—_

_Can't say much—Helena Yeats is waiting for me—so I'll give you the gist. I'm with her, James is off hunting for Lily again, and Peter—hard to believe—is visiting the writer of some secret admirer's note he got yesterday by owl. _

_Anyway, got to go! Helena awaits!_

_We'll be back a little before the train starts!_

_—Padfoot_

Remus raised his eyebrows as he folded up the note and tossed it back onto the seat. He sat down next to it, and reached over for his book. Who could possibly be Peter's secret admirer? James chasing Lily was no great shock, and neither were Helena Yeats and Sirius getting together. Helena was in their year but in Ravenclaw. He recalled her once last year during their defense against the dark arts written O.W.L. that while Sirius and James, having finished the exam early, were waiting to be dismissed, she, also having finished early, had been watching Sirius with a hopeful eye, although Sirius hadn't really noticed.

The fact that Sirius was incredibly good-looking in his tall-dark-and-handsome way was well known by any giggling girl that had laid eyes on him. James and Peter often picked on Sirius about why he didn't take one of them—he could have any one he wanted (save for Lily, of course). Sirius often got irked whenever they did this and would change the subject, until their last day of O.W.L.s, Sirius finally admitted, much to his friends' surprise: "If you all _must _know…er…women scare me."

Then James had laughed out loud, and Peter and joined in with him.

Remus on the other hand, was empathetic. "That's nothing to be ashamed of, Padfoot. Women scare _me_too." _Especially one woman in particular_, he'd added to himself.

"Cheers, Moony," said Sirius, smiling rather sheepishly in his gratitude.

But James, who was wiping tears out of his eyes, still laughed as he said, "Yeah, Moony, but unlike _you_, Padfoot has a private fan club of female stalkers who all giggle every he time glances over his shoulder at them!"

"That's probably because they know that after he sees them, his eyes fill with terror and he runs away like a yipping Chihuahua!" Peter cried, unable to help himself.  


"OY! I will _not _be compared to some stupid little rat that has the nerve to call itself a dog!" Sirius snapped.

James and Peter had still continued to laugh, but even so, through his laughter, James agreed to give Sirius wooing lessons over the summer—to which Remus had said sarcastically, "_You_, Prongs? Give _wooing_lessons? You can't even woo Lily Evans into going out on at least _one _date with you."

That had sobered James up.

The corner of Remus' mouth twitched as he dwelled on the memory, paying no attention to what he was skimming through in his book.

"Remus?"

"Aaaah!" he yelled, throwing his textbook into the air. It landed onto the floor with a loud THUD. He looked up, and to his horror he saw—

Lily.

"I'm sorry," she said, tittering softly, amusement prancing in those haunting green eyes of hers. "Did I scare you?"

Remus, who had not spoken to Lily and had barely seen her ever since she'd kissed him in the Gryffindor common room last year, had been afraid of something like this happening when he came back to school: of Lily seeking him out…hoping to get him alone with her…. "Y-Yes, you did scare me," he said, his mouth dry. "A little."

He thought of Sirius' fear of women, how he'd described what it was like for him to try and talk to one: "I don't know what to say when they say something to me," he'd told Remus, James, and Peter. "All of a sudden my hands are all sweaty, and I lose all power of speech, because all I can think about is not making a fool of myself: so then I make a fool of myself because I'm standing there staring at them like some stupid troll. They just expect so bleeding much from you, and yet they don't _tell _you what they want. Anything you say could be a mistake, and then they expect you to know _why_ you've upset them, even if you've never even_spoken _to them! They've got that—what is it?—women's intuition, and they assume _men _have it too! Ha! As_if_!"

Remus tried to smile, but it was shaky and awkward.

Lily approached him, her hands clasped behind her back.

Remus got to his feet automatically.

Lily stopped mere inches from him.

Remus' heart beat frantically, the blood howling in his veins, full of electricity at how close they were. He was lost in intoxication.

"You didn't write to me," she said quietly.

In his mind's eye, Remus could see flashing red warning lights go up at the disappointed 

tone in her voice. "I—I'm sorry," he stammered. Here was what Sirius had been talking about when he said that women expect you to know what they want. Lamely he used his mother's distressful summer of losing her entire Muggle family and finding out she was pregnant again as an excuse. Well, maybe it wasn't lame, but it was still an excuse. When he finished, he was relieved to see that Lily was understanding.

"Oh," she said, covering her mouth with her hands. Then she lowered them and said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Remus. About your mum's family, I mean."

Remus wasn't sure what to say, so he said nothing at all. But not wanting to gawp at her "like some stupid troll", he lowered his eyes to his shabby shoes.

Breaking the moment of discomfited silence that ensued, Lily asked, "How is she? Your mum?"

Remus looked up at her, grateful that she'd asked something he could readily answer. "She's getting better. I think—I think the prospect of having the baby is helping some. I mean that's been hard on her too, because she's tried three times already since I was born, and all of those pregnancies were miscarriages—"

"All that, and worrying about _you _too?"

"How did you know my mum's constantly worrying about me?"

As it happened, in addition to having an interest in defense against the dark arts and astrology, Remus had also, over just that past summer, _re_developed his old interest in drawing. When he was younger, he'd drawn hundreds of pictures, even after he'd been bitten, whereupon his drawings had turned more "nihilistic" and depressing, which eventually led him to quit drawing so much anymore. But over the past summer, for some reason, with so much going on in his life, he felt the need to take it up again. So, when Lily smiled then, her smile reminded him of a Muggle painting he'd seen in a Muggle art book of his mother's he'd recently perused through of a woman smiling a mysterious smile—a painting called the Mona Lisa.

The effect on Remus was that it took his breath away.

"Oh come on, Remus," Lily said to him, still smiling mysteriously. "I would think that if _my_ kid were a werewolf, _I'd _constantly worry about him or her. I mean—I mean you've told me how awful it is for you every full moon, and even if you _didn't _tell me, I'd still have a feeling that it was, because after every full moon you look so ill and exhausted. Any mother would feel worried like that—wishing they could protect you from what has to happen to you every month…wishing they could take it away…."

While she'd been speaking, she'd gradually closed the small gap between them, and Remus' discomfort levels were skyrocketing. Not that he wasn't taking pleasure in being so close to her for the second time in his life, but it was just that along with it came a feeling of closeness in general…like the walls of the compartment were closing in around them.

She brushed her lips against his.

His internal response was crackling sparks that spread from his own lips to the rest of his body, causing him to shiver. _More_, a voice in his head said to him. _I want more. That feel's sooooo goooooood…. _  


His external response, thusly, was to close his eyes and clamp his lips down on hers—hard.

She gave a small, "Mmph!" of surprise, but did not tear herself away. Instead she twined his arms around his neck.

_No, she doesn't want this, remember? She'll regret it, you _know _she will! She'll be disgusted! If this goes any farther—what if she sees your scars…?_

While Remus didn't have any scars on his face, or his hands, he did have ones on his arms, torso, and legs. And the thought of her seeing them—if their relationship were to ever get to the point where she'd be given the opportunity to see them—well, he _couldn't _let it get that far. And instead of ending it after being with her for a little while, he knew it would hurt her less if he just cut to the chase and ended it _now_.

Mustering all of his conviction, Remus seized Lily by the shoulders—and before he allowed himself to really know the feeling of them in his hands—he gave a fast, hard shove with them, pushing her away and breaking the kiss. Now that she was at arm's length from him, he turned away from her, ashamed somehow of what he'd just done. Saddened, in fact.

"Remus? What's the matter?"

Remus' heart panged at her tone of voice. It sounded as though she might start crying. He took a deep, shuddering breath, and said, "I—We can't do this, Lily."

"Why not? Is it because you're a werewolf? Is that it?"

"I don't—You don't want…me." He closed his eyes and shuddered as he heard Lily laugh behind him.

"Don't be silly! Of _course _I want you."

"You won't _always _want me. There are things about me that will turn you off." _Yeah. Big ugly scars all over my body from all those times I'd nearly attack somebody and James and Sirius would have to fight me to bring my mind back…. _"Lycanthropy isn't a pretty sight, Lily. I don't want your pretty eyes to see it. And I don't think your pretty eyes would _want _to either, quite frankly." Before she could argue, he turned to face her and plowed on. "No, listen to me. You really ought to give James a chance. He's trying to change. He's doing it for _you_. You must at least like him…a little?"

Lily, who had indeed been about to argue with him, still had her mouth open to protest. She closed it now as she considered Remus' question. Then she said, very quietly, "Not as much as _you_."

Remus sighed and closed his eyes. "Lily, I—I really, really, _really _like you. And I—One day, you're going to see the werewolf side of me, and it'll repulse you. We should end it now…before we let ourselves get in too deep and…break somebody's heart…." He swallowed and opened his eyes. He saw no tears, but he did see sadness in her expression. "I'm sorry. I'm just—I'm afraid that no woman other than you will ever want me…. I don't think I can ever have what normal people have. No matter how charming, or good-looking I was, the fact that I'm a werewolf would send every pretty girl away, never wanting to set eyes on me again. I want you and me to always stay friends, and never let anything taint that because you saw something of the dark monster inside of me and it made _you_ run away from me too. This is…for the best." He held out his hand. "Friends?" he offered hopefully.

Lily pursed her lips and looked into his eyes. She studied him like that for a very long moment, before taking a deep breath and saying at last, with a seemingly forced smile, "Friends." She took his hand and they shook.

Neither of them denied the thrill they both experienced from the physical contact. Both of them ended the exchange with palpable reluctance.

Remus clasped his hands behind his back, and Lily mirrored him.

"Remus," she said with some difficulty. "I think…I understand you…a little…. No one likes a broken heart, and more than likely, lots of girls will break _yours_, unless they're a werewolf too, I suppose…so naturally you're very wise to choose a life of…mmm…solitude…but…." She averted her gaze and whispered, "I wish you didn't have to_ choose _such a life."

From out in the corridor, they heard a girl's voice exclaim in a vituperatively playful manner: "Sirius Black, you tease, get back here!"

"I'd better go," said Lily, going slightly pink. "See you around, then?" She smiled uncertainly.

Remus smiled weakly in return. "Yeah. See you around."

She turned and left, Remus drinking in the sight of her fiery red hair whipping around the corner, trying to ignore the sound of his heart as it crushed into itself inside his chest. Once she was gone, Sirius stumbled in with a young witch with curly brunette hair at his heels.

"No, Helena! Please!" Sirius laughed, tears leaking from his eyes.

"Not yet!" laughed Helena Yeats, grabbing Sirius by the crook of his elbow and pulling him hard towards her.

Completely oblivious of Remus' presence for the moment, the two of them kissed in the doorway, both of them giving a small moan of pleasure. When they ended it, Helena drew the tip of her index finger down Sirius' nose and teased, "See you later?"

"Naturally, luv," Sirius whispered.

They squeezed hands briefly as Helena walked away down the corridor and let go after she was out of sight.

Sirius continued to watch her from the doorway, his eyes full of dreamy elation.

A smile played at the corner of Remus' lips, despite the cloud of misery hanging over him. Remus' remark notwithstanding, James had continued as planned with giving Sirius "wooing lessons" over that summer…and it seems that the lessons had paid off after all.

When Sirius still didn't turn around, Remus cleared his throat.

Sirius jumped and swiveled on the spot. "Yah! Moony! Oh , God! You—You haven't been here—?"

"Don't worry about it," said Remus, still grinning with genuine amusement, and waving a carefree hand. "Prongs' lessons paid off, I see?"

"Yeah," said Sirius. He beamed shyly, rubbing the back of his neck and crossing to the window to lounge next to it in the seat. Then he seemed to come out of his Helena-Yeats-dream-world and said, his gray eyes focusing more, "So, how was _your _summer holiday?"

Remus sat across from Sirius and explained to him about his mother's family and her new pregnancy. When he finished, Sirius' eyes were wide.

"Wow," he said, shaking his head. "That's rough."

Even with his trying to repress the melancholy settling inside him from turning down the woman whom he'd loved for as long as he could remember, talking about other misfortunes in his life made the feelings resurface as he thought despondently: _You have no idea, Padfoot. _

* * *

Things were awkward for a little while, but as the school year progressed, Remus and Lily were able to speak to each other like old friends again.

In the meantime, something else came to occupy Remus' mind. One day in mid-September, as he was racing up a staircase on his way to grab something from his dormitory in Gryffindor tower, he slipped, but, for some reason, he thought the words: _Wingardium leviosa_! Even though it couldn't possibly help him when he wasn't using a wand. Yet, as he thought them, he levitated in the air for a moment, and then landed safely on the step on his own two feet.

How had he done it?

Fortunately someone—Professor Slughorn, in fact, who had just come up from the dungeons—saw it happen, and Remus was about to get his answer. "You _too_, m'boy?" he boomed, striding over to a slightly shaken Remus.

"Me…too? What?" Remus asked, a bit disoriented. He furrowed his brow as Slughorn helped him collect his books, which he'd dropped in mid-fall. He had to look down at Slughorn, because considering how lanky Remus had grown, Slughorn only came up to Remus' thin chest.

Slughorn's smile widened beneath his walrus mustache. "Ah, it just so happens that Professor Dumbledore is meeting with the other one. Incidentally, I saw him doing it on his way out of the dungeons earlier today! He'll be pleased to know he's not the only one! Come along m'boy: it's Lupin, right? Remus Lupin?"

"Er, yes—yaaaah!" Remus yelled as Slughorn gave him such a hard tug by the arm that he dropped all of his books again.

Luckily Slughorn gave a wave of his wand and sent them all up to Remus' dormitory. When they reached the headmaster's office, Slughorn gave the password and then knocked on the door.

"Enter!" came Dumbledore's voice from within.  


Slughorn opened the door and led Remus inside the office filled with all sorts of silver whirring and clicking wizarding knick-knacks and gizmos. From behind his desk, Dumbledore looked up at Remus as he and Slughorn approached and beamed. Beside him, on his perch was Fawkes the phoenix, who eyed Remus with a tilt of his head.

"Ah, Mister Lupin. Professor. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Pardon me for interrupting, sir," said Slughorn boisterously, "but I thought since you were just about to chat with young Mister Snape here about the same thing…."

For a moment Remus stopped paying attention to what Slughorn was saying and looked over, and for the first time he realized the presence of another young man like Remus in the room: Severus Snape.

Severus narrowed his eyes and looked away from Remus, fixing his harsh stare on the headmaster instead.

Remus sighed and also returned his attention to the headmaster, who was beaming even more widely.

"Indeed, Horace?" he said. He eyed Remus and raised his eyebrows. "Well then, this certainly saves us some time. Instead of two separate meetings, we can just have one with the both of them here. Thank you, Horace."

"Not at all, not at all," said Slughorn modestly, withdrawing from the room.

Once the door had closed with a snap, Dumbledore turned to Remus and Severus and said: "You are both probably wondering why the two of you have been brought here. I will tell you that it has to do with the fact that the both of you somehow managed to make yourselves levitate for a moment _without_ the use of a _wand_."

Had Severus and Remus been friends, they would have exchanged glances then. But, as they weren't, they did not. They both however continued to look confusedly at Dumbledore.

"The fact that you can do this—though of course, if you were to try to do it again, you most certainly_wouldn't _be able to do it a second time in a row, only because for now you have no control—but the fact that you were both able to do this once, means you can learn _how _to control it, so that you _can _do it again if you want to." He paused a moment, surveying them over the rims of his half-moon spectacles with his bright blue eyes, his fingertips pressed lightly together. "I am talking about the art of _wandless magic_. Both of you have demonstrated the potential to learn it."

Remus raised his eyebrows. And without thinking, he and Severus _did_ exchange looks. Then they remembered that they weren't friends and looked away again.

"We'll start you on lessons next Tuesday evening, at eight o'clock, here in my office," said Dumbledore. "Do not be late…."

_

* * *

_

That's it!

Ted, who had immediately cracked open his father's journal the moment he and Rodger had returned to the dormitory, leapt from his bed. He threw a pillow at Rodger's head. "Rodger!" he whispered loudly.

"W-What? Wazgonon?" Rodger mumbled, turning over to look at Ted with bleary eyes in the dark.

"Get up. Quick. I want you to see something. Come _on_, Rodger, this is important!"

"Alright, alright…." Sluggishly, Rodger dragged himself out of his comfy bed and followed Ted down the stone steps to the empty and gloomy Gryffindor common room. "Ted, I just got to _sleep_…."

"Shhh! Just watch."

When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ted pulled out his wand and pointed it at the dying embers in the fireplace. "_Incendio_!"

A jet of fire shot from the end of his wand and hit the coals. A fresh fire began to crackle merrily in the fireplace.

"Now, just watch," Ted said to Rodger. "Watch what happens when I run up the stairs."

Rodger rolled his eyes. "Okay, mate. Whatever you say," he said, leaning back against the edge of a table and folding his arms over his chest.

Ted ran up the steps. He didn't slip. Not once. _Of all the times _not _to be a klutz! _He jogged back down and tried again. Again, he managed it perfectly. How did he suddenly become so coordinated? He always tripped up on these steps when he tried to run up them.

As he raced down to the bottom again, Rodger said irksomely, "Ted, what in Merlin's name are you _doing_?"

"Just _wait_," Ted implored him, folding his hands as if in supplication. "You'll _see_. _Trust _me."

"Never trust a man who says 'trust me'," Rodger muttered under his breath.

Ted ran up the stairs. Again. And again, not a single slip up. What the hell was going on…? He jogged back down the steps in frustration—

"Ted, careful!" Rodger exclaimed, his eyes wide, his arms uncrossed, standing up straighter.

Even as he said it, Ted felt the force of gravity drag him down as his heel slipped on the step. As he descended to what seemed to be an unpleasant collision of stone and his tailbone, he thought desperately,_Wingardium leviosa!_

He stopped falling.

He heard Rodger suck in his breath.

Ted positioned his legs so that as he slowly drifted down, and landed lightly on his feet.

"_How _did you _do _that?" Rodger asked hoarsely.  


"I think I might have the potential to learn wandless magic!" Ted said excitedly, carefully making the rest of his way down the steps. "Just like my dad."

"Your dad—?"

"I'll explain later."

"I'm getting Longbottom," said Rodger.

Ted was glad to hear this, and watched him happily as he went out through the portrait hole.

Rodger returned momentarily with Professor Neville Longbottom, head of Gryffindor house, at his heels in a long red bathrobe, his dark hair tousled. He had his hands behind his back, and his brow was furrowed.

"Ted," the young, slightly absent-minded herbology professor said as he strode towards him. "What's the trouble, here? Rodger here said you did…_wandless magic_?"

"Professor," Ted said, his tone serious. "Do you recall our first day of herbology?"

Professor Longbottom smiled bemusedly. "Not really, but…I _do _remember you had your first-year's defense against the dark arts book open when you were supposed to be paying attention to how to properly prune a phloxseed bush."

Ted grinned sheepishly. "Right. And then you said something to me later—"

"Oh, _now _I remember! After class you were trailing after everyone else, and you tripped and dropped all of your books. And then as Rodger and I were helping you pick them up, I happened across that same defense book and asked you if you knew that your dad had once taught defense against the dark arts here at Hogwarts for a year."

"I _did _know, and you told me that he was the best that you ever had while you were at school."

Longbottom's smiled turned slightly wistful, but at the same time he chuckled. "I'll never forget our first lesson with him: boggart-Snape in my dear old gran's dress and big stuffed vulture hat."

Ted chuckled too, remembering a story his godfather had once told him when he was little—another one of the very few he'd managed to sneak in undercover from his grandmother, Andromeda.

Rodger glanced from him to Longbottom, utterly confused.

And then Ted asked Longbottom, "Do you remember if my dad was ever able to do any sort of magic without using a wand?"

Longbottom thought very hard, scratching his head and leaning back against the same table against which Rodger had been leaning earlier. "Mmm…mmm…no…not that I...remember…. Wait! I _do _remember. Yes…I think…I think…. Yes! I do! I do remember! But why do you want to know?"  


Although Ted was curious as to know what sort of wandless magic Longbottom had seen his father do, he decided he had more important things to see to at the moment. Clearing his throat, he said,

"Could I see the headmistress, sir? I think—I think I can do it too. And I was reading in my dad's old journal that when he found out he could do it, Professor Dumbledore scheduled him to take private lessons on learning it. Rodger'll have to come too, because he saw it happen, so he can testify for proof, if necessary."

Longbottom thought another moment, and then said, "Let me run it by Professor Bones tomorrow morning, and I'll see what I can do, Ted. Alright?"

Ted nodded. "Thank you, Professor. Well, g'night, then, sir."

"Good night, Ted. I'm glad I could help." Turning to Rodger he said, "Good night to you too, Rodger."

"G'night, sir," said Rodger.

Professor Longbottom turned away, and Ted and Rodger watched him climb through the portrait hole and disappear from the common room.

And then, while Rodger snuggled up underneath the covers again, Ted returned to reading his father's journal by the light of his wand tip.

* * *

"_Wandless _magic?" James was aghast, as were Sirius and Peter. "Cool."

"All except for the bit about having to take his lessons with _Snivellus_," Sirius remarked as he lounged in one of the squashy, fireside armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. He was supposed to be working on an essay for his N.E.W.T. level defense against the dark arts class, but at the moment he wasn't in the mood to keep going.

He, James, and surprisingly, Peter, were all taking classes to qualify for Auror training that year. Remus, on the other hand, had read up on the employment policy of werewolves and had been unhappy to find that his opportunities were limited—and they did not include training to become an Auror. However, Professor Dumbledore had had a talk with Remus. He believed that Remus should try for whatever career he wanted to, because he was an exceptional student, and one day the Ministry and the Wizarding World would learn to see past his condition and only see his exceptional talents too.

But Remus actually wasn't interested in becoming an Auror. "I think I'd like to become an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries," he'd confided in Professor McGonagall last year during their mandatory career consultation, and then later on to his friends that same day. He remembered that the first thing out of his friends' mouths were that when he was an Unspeakable, he still had to keep in touch with them and not go all secretive. Remus had smiled quietly at this. When he'd told Lily, he was surprised when she said that she too was interested in working as an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. Meanwhile, McGonagall had told him that the courses he had to take were the same as the ones that had to be taken to qualify for Auror training.

Remus wasn't sure what the attraction had been to working in the Department of Mysteries. He supposed that it had to do with his fascination with solving puzzles and problems. He also found the secretiveness of it intriguing. Seclusion was a place he enjoyed from time to time, unlike James and Sirius, who often liked to put themselves out there as the center of attention in the Gryffindor common room, showing off fancy tricks with their wands and nearly all of Gryffindor cheering them on and laughing, and Peter, who always tagged along with them.

The workload was significantly higher than they'd ever had before, but Remus and Severus not only had all of these N.E.W.T. level classes to contend with, but also learning wandless magic together at their biweekly lessons every Tuesday and Thursday in Dumbledore's office.

Their first task was to learn to master their ability to wandlessly perform the Levitation Charm, which was what they'd done _without _control before. Neither of them managed it by the end of the first lesson. Their homework was to read up on the theory. With all of Remus' other assignments, he didn't manage to get to his assignment for wandless magic until an hour before he had to leave for his second lesson on that very Thursday evening two days later.

Sirius and James passed him on their way out to go serve their separate detentions, which they'd received for miraculously planting frog spawn (charmed to multiply when touched) in Severus' trunk. According to them in Remus and Peter's confidence, they had managed it with the help of James' invisibility cloak, and a special knife of Sirius' that could open any lock, which he'd received as a Christmas present last year from his Uncle Alphard. After Remus' first wandless magic lesson, they had asked him how it went when he'd returned. Now as they passed, they both clapped him on the shoulder and wished him luck.

"Don't let Snivellus get you down," said Sirius with a wink. "You got your mirror?" he added to James, referring to their set of two-way mirrors—a fourteenth birthday present from Uncle Alphard—which he and James used to talk to each other when they were in separate detentions.

"Got it," James confirmed, showing Sirius the mirror that Sirius had given him from the set of two. Looking over his shoulder and grinning, he said to Remus, "You show that Snivellus you know what's what in wandless magic."

"Cheers, Prongs," Remus said, returning the grin. "Cheers, Padfoot," he added to Sirius.

"Well, Prongs," said Sirius, motioning James theatrically to the portrait hole, "we'd better go. Those trophies won't shine them_selves _the Muggle way for _you_—and I know for a fact that those bedpans won't be cleaning themselves the Muggle way for _me_ either."

Both Remus and Severus were both equally accomplished in their abilities at wandless magic. As the weeks went by, they both worked to achieve the highest possible level in the art of it. In the presence of the headmaster, they were both quite civil to each other, which Remus did not fail to report to his friends.

"I would've thought he _wouldn't _be," said James thoughtfully. "I mean he always had that weird suspicion that you had thing for Lily—you know, back when they were friends—but anyway, I would've thought that now that she's not hanging around with him at _all_, his stupid jealousy would've increased, because obviously she still likes _you _well enough, and well…I mean I think that'd be grounds for him to risk being a little nasty with you."

Remus was as Lily had put it, a non-"feeling-revealing" sort of person—otherwise known as a stoic, though in Remus' case he may not have been an _absolute _stoic—he was just one when it came to feelings of intensity and depth, like love, for instance. Had Remus been younger, he would have blushed while listening to James' words, but by now he'd learned how to hear Lily's name without so much as even the slightest flustering of his movement. In fact, he went so far as to sometimes speak of her in a tone that bordered on indifference. So, happily, he was quite capable of keeping his exterior calm as he listened to James' case for why Severus might have good reason to _not _be civil with Remus during their private lessons with Dumbledore. On the inside however, his heart was hammering at the speed of a hummingbird's wings.

But judging even by the calm response he gave, his friends could not have known. "Well, he only _thought _I had a thing for her. As for _you_, well, he hates you more, for one, and he also _knows _you've got a thing for her." He sharpened the tip of his charcoal pencil with his special sharpening tool and returned to his pad of drawing paper, where he was covertly and masterfully sketching Lily as she sat on the other side of the common room beneath the window with her girl friends, with no one being the wiser.

The moment after Dumbledore had first told Remus about having private lessons for learning wandless magic, he'd written his parents. They'd written back at once in John's hand, saying how proud they both were of him, and telling him that they weren't surprised, because apparently John's older sister Suzanne (Susie, for short) had had that ability too. Unfortunately, Remus' Aunt Susie had died seven years ago—and as it turned out, she too had been an Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. But, as she was dead, Remus couldn't talk to her about that, or about wandless magic.

Fortunately, learning wandless magic wasn't like their standard magical education with a wand: their biweekly lessons lasted from when they started in mid-September all the way to the week before the Christmas holidays. With wandless magic, there is only so far you can go. Only the simplest of spells could be done wandlessly (go too powerful, and it could actually kill you trying to do it), among them, the Levitation Charm, the Fire Charm (Remus had particularly enjoyed learning to do that one, because he liked the idea of being able to cup his hands together and hold flames in them), and the Vanishing Spell, which was performed with a wave of the wand hand. And because wandless magic was non-verbal, Remus and Severus were of course both quite apt at non-verbal spells _with _a wand as well.

When Remus and Severus parted ways in silence after their last lesson—which included a well-earned congratulations from Dumbledore—it was the last time Remus ever really saw Severus again.

During the winter holiday break, Remus went home to his family as usual. His aptitude for stoicism came in handy again in getting over the shock at seeing his mother, who was now about seven months along in her pregnancy, and needless to say she was showing quite a lot. But it actually also helped that for the first time in what seemed like a long time, she seemed to be in bright spirits—not just pretend ones for show—but truly, genuinely bright spirits. She'd just seen her Muggle practitioner—as well as a St. Mungo's healer upon John's insistence, although they'd had to be careful now that even St. Mungo's had become a dangerous place, which was why John and Joanne had both decided to make this baby's delivery an at-home birth—and she'd been told by both the doctor and the healer (though on separate appointments, of course) that the baby was doing quite well.

John's spirits seemed to have brightened as well. It wasn't long before Remus became an audience to stories about when _he _was an infant.

"You hardly ever cried," John was telling him as he and Remus were preparing the Christmas ham in the kitchen. "And you were an early everything, really."

"Early everything?" Remus asked as he took a stack of plates out of the cupboard.

John's smile widened. "You learned pretty much everything earlier than most kids. You were an early smiler, an early walker, an early talker—your little brain developed like there was no tomorrow! Merlin, even later on, you showed signs of magic earlier than average. Most kids show it around the age of six or seven. You showed it at the age of four."

Remus raised his eyebrows, grinning. "You sure you're not exaggerating just a little, Dad?"

John's eyes widened as though taken aback, but then his smile returned, but this time it was slightly sheepish. "Well…okay, maybe you were _five_, but that's still earlier than average."

After Christmas dinner the Lupins shared a round of eggnog—all except for Joanne, who couldn't have any because eggnog was on her list of foods to avoid during pregnancy. Actually, even if she wasn't pregnant, she still wouldn't have had any, because she didn't care for eggnog. So while her husband and son drank it before the sitting room fire—her husband also absently fiddling with an old watch the Muggle way on the coffee table—she sat with them, crocheting something.

"What is it, Mum?" Remus asked her.

"It's _going _to be a quilt for the baby," his mother replied, beaming at him. "I still have the one I made _you_. It's packed away in the attic along with all of your other things from when you were little."

"Why don't you just let the baby have it?" Remus wondered. "I mean," he added with a laugh, "_I'm _certainly not going to use it anymore."

"No," Joanne laughed, "but I'd rather make a new one, so the baby will have one of its very own, like you did. Besides, I mean I know you're only sixteen-going-on-seventeen, but who knows how long it'll be before_you're _expecting. I mean obviously not _you _technically, but you know…." Her smile reminded Remus of the Mona Lisa, just as Lily's had that day on the train on their first day back to school that year.

Remus' own smile saddened a little. "Oh, Mum. I don't think I'm ever going to tie the knot and have a kid. You know how _normal _birds are about blokes who're _werewolves_. They kind of…don't care for it too much, if you know what I mean."

Briefly, John and Joanne exchanged significant looks.

Then Joanne said to Remus, "Well, perhaps you'll meet a lovely young woman who's a werewolf too."

"Maybe," said Remus, staring down into his eggnog. "Except I read somewhere that werewolves are typically sterile."

"There's always adoption," said Joanne.

Despite his gloom, Remus could not help but feel happy. It was such a wonderful thing to hear his mother speak so optimistically again.

Joanne suddenly sat up straighter in her chair, placing a hand on her rounded-out belly. Then slowly she smiled.

John glanced up at her from the watch. "Is it kicking again?"

Joanne nodded fervently. As John set down his tools and rose from the sofa, she said, "Remus, you come feel too."

Remus hesitated, and then he set down his goblet of eggnog and rose from the sofa, following his father. When he reached his mother, he saw that she had lifted up her blouse to expose her abdomen. John had a hand and an ear pressed to it as he knelt beside her. Then, without warning, Remus saw a small bulge rise from within Joanne's stomach, and then disappear. He looked up at his parents, his mouth slightly open.

"It's okay Remus," said Joanne, reaching for his hand. "That's just the baby." She pulled his hand towards and laid it on her stomach next to John's.

Remus knelt down beside her chair like his father was doing and waited. And then…he felt it. The bulge rising up from inside his mother, and then back down again. It was…weird.

The next morning Remus came downstairs to find his mother sitting in a chair by the living room window. Her hands rested on her belly as she gazed down at it, caressing it absently and humming a lullaby, the tune of which Remus vaguely remembered from when he was a very small child. Silently he went back to his room and pulled out his sketchpad and his charcoal pencil from his bag. When he returned, he slipped into the room and sat down on the sofa and immediately began sketching his mother.

Joanne looked up at the sound of his faintly scratching charcoal pencil. "Good morning, Remus," she said pleasantly.

"'Morning, Mum," Remus replied, briefly glancing up from his drawing.

"What are you drawing?"

"You."

"Oh." She sounded a little embarrassed.

Then John entered the room in his pajamas and robe, holding the Daily Prophet in one hand and scratching the back of his head with the other. As he walked by behind the sofa, he noticed Remus was sketching and took a peek, unable to help himself most likely, because 

Remus had told him he preferred not having people look over his shoulder while he drew. Remus didn't mind this time though. He was almost finished anyway. So, he asked his father what he thought of the finished product.

John smiled, glancing over at his wife. "She's beautiful, son."

Two days after Christmas was a full moon. The transformation was again, terrible: his friends weren't there, of course. When Remus woke up in his bed the following morning, he woke not to his mother, as he normally did when he was at home, but to his father. But he knew his mother was hindered from doing what she normally did by her pregnancy, and so was not too surprised.

"Hey, Dad," he said groggily.

John smiled that smile of his that was half-affectionate, half-mournfully guilty. He reached over and brushed a few bangs out of Remus' face, and then absently ruffled his hair. "You're brave, you know that, son? I'm proud of you."

"I'm not a Gryffindor for nothing, Dad," said Remus hoarsely, managing a weak smile before drifting back to sleep.

Returning to school from the holidays, the next couple of months were a bit of a blur. Lily expressed her concerns about Remus' mother, and he, in turn, expressed unconditional concern for the aspects in her own life, like her estranged relationship with her older sister, who was now away at what Muggles called, "university".

"I don't know why she bothered going," Lily admitted with a sigh as they walked down the corridor, carrying their books. "She'll just end up being a housewife. That's the type she is. Very conservative, politically and otherwise."

"Does she say anything to you?" Remus asked.

"She talks to Mum and Dad mostly. But occasionally she notifies me of goings on in her life—or at least she has Mum and Dad do it _for _her. I'm just glad that their feelings about my being a witch have always been opposite of what hers are. Anyway, apparently she's seeing this young bloke who's a student at the business school there. A Vernon Something—er, Delaney? No…Dursley. That's it. Vernon Dursley. Anyhow, apparently she's really infatuated with him. I swear she's going to marry him, be a housewife to him, and when they have a kid they're going to spoil it rotten. I just know it. I know my sister. I've lived with her my whole life…well, practically. Not so much since I came to Hogwarts, but anyway. I think it's exciting that _you're _getting a sibling. But I have to say, it's totally different from my situation. Not only are you older, but you're _sixteen_—almost _seventeen _years older! That's quite a gap."

"Yeah," said Remus with a chuckle. "Mum says I'll be more of a really young uncle, in a way. But a brother too, not just biologically, but also because he or she and I will probably do immature kid things when he or she gets older, like play pranks on our Mum and Dad. Or on each other."

"I'll bet if it's a boy you would. With girls I think the vibe is different. Though perhaps since _you're _a boy it may not matter. May just toughen her up. _If _it's a girl, I mean." Just then, she ran into some seventh-year Slytherin jerk that just walked away in the direction he'd been heading as soon as they had collided without so much as a "Sorry" or a "Pardon me", while all of Lily's books in her bag as well as in her arms went flying and crashing to the floor. "Bloody hell," Lily muttered getting on her hands and knees and starting to collect everything.

Remus got down on his hands and knees too—as did James, who came out of nowhere.

"Allow me to assist you, my dear Miss Lily," James said enthusiastically, snatching up books before Lily could protest.

"Oh so it's not 'Evans' anymore, is it?" Lily said coolly, keeping her eyes down on the books she was collecting in her arms. "It's 'Miss Lily' now?"

"I only always called you 'Evans' because we weren't friends," said James, sounding rather hurt. "I was being polite."

"Would it have killed you to add the 'Miss' _then_?"

Remus, who had suddenly become distracted by the exchange occurring between James and Lily, expected James to roll his eyes. However, to his surprise, James did not show the slightest sign of immature exasperation. Instead, he said, quite sincerely, "Yes, you're right. I suppose I could have. Well, at least I'm adding the 'Miss' _now_, eh?"

"But what makes you think you can call me Miss _Lily _instead of Miss _Evans_?" Here was another surprise: instead of a cold tone, as Remus had anticipated, Lily had said these next words in a tone of…well, something _else_. However she still stuffed the books from her bag back into her bag with perhaps a little more force than was necessary. And she continued to avoid James' eyes.

Nonetheless, Remus could not shake the feeling that this exchange held no hostility. In fact, if he didn't know any better, he'd say James and Lily were…_flirting_….

"I'd like to try and at least be friends," James was saying. "I know I'm a bit conceited—"

Lily snorted, a sardonic grin gracing her pretty features. "A _bit_?"

James continued as though nothing had happened. "—but I'm trying to change. Those may sound like empty words, I know, but they really aren't, even if you don't believe me. If anything, I'd like to learn a few tips on self-improvement, if that's any more or less convincing." He had been so fixated on her face that he hadn't noticed where his hand was going.

Lily became oddly flustered and reached rather frantically for another book. As soon as it landed on one, James, who had absently been reaching for the same exact book, ended up accidentally covering her hand instead with his own. She gasped and regarded their hands resting on top of each other on the book—Lily's charms book, actually. And then she looked up at James, who was still gazing at her with an endearing intensity. Admittedly James still hurled a jinx at Severus, but only whenever Severus did it to him first, and never around Lily anymore (although since the termination of her and Severus' friendship, that wasn't quite so hard to do nowadays). Otherwise, James had actually really matured quite a bit since their previous year. As his and Lily's gazes locked, Lily turned slightly pink, and…smiled…rather sheepishly….

Unable to abide watching this, Remus gave a nervous cough and edged away, gathering some books and pretending he wasn't there. However, he could not help but listen as Lily and James both gave a nervous laugh.

"Sorry," they both muttered at the same time.

"Here are your books, then," said James, clearing his throat.

"Thanks," said Lily quietly. She got to her feet and turned to Remus, who still knelt on the floor. "Oh, I'll take those too, Remus," she added. She sounded like she was on the verge of giggling.

Remus forced a smile and got to his feet, handing Lily her books.

"I'd better go," she said, taking the books and clearing her throat as well. "Cheers, Remus. You too, James." She quickly walked away, hugging the books Remus had handed her close to her chest.

As Remus and James watched her leave them, Remus knew that she had run away for a reason, because of course he and she had been planning on heading to the library together. But now that the man she loved who had turned her down and the man she realized she might be starting to fancy even though she never thought she would in a million years were present at the same awkward situation, it was enough to drive anyone to seek some solitude.

James, who was of course oblivious to how Remus felt about Lily—and Remus hoped to keep it that way—turned around, beaming from ear to ear. "I think that went well, don't you, mate?"

"I think you might have a chance with her after all," said Remus, clapping James on the shoulder with sincere congratulations.

"Well, it's a start. Hey, you seen Padfoot anywhere?"

"Nope."

"Ah well. More fun for you and me. Fancy a round of your Exploding Snap game up in the common room?"

"Well…I _was_ on my way to the library—"

James rolled his eyes. That was the old James right there. "Moony, you've been studying without a break for the past two days! You need some _you_ time too, you know."

Deciding that maybe Lily was in the library, Remus thought it wise not to go there after all and said, "You're right." And he had to admit, that James actually _was _right. So they walked together up to Gryffindor tower, chatting about the last Inter-house Quidditch match.

Later, when they were playing their second round of Exploding Snap at their usual spot by the fire—they were actually the only two in the entire common room—they heard someone 

climb in through the portrait hole. They looked around to see that it was Peter, who positively beamed with glee.

"What's up, Wormy?" James asked as Peter joined them at the table where they were playing their game.

"I've got a date with Cicely Sterling next Hogsmeade weekend! On Valentine's Day!" Peter said excitedly. "We're going to go have a coffee at Madam Puddifoot's—"

As Remus and James rolled their eyes, they heard someone else come in through the portrait hole, and Sirius' voice say, "Madam Puddifoot's? Please. You call _that _a date? That's _nothing _compared to what dear_Helena _and _I _have planned for Valentine's Day this year." Although he didn't slur, he sounded like he was a tad drunk as he swaggered over to them and sidled in between James and Peter.

James, who was in the perfect position to just happen to be looking right at it, noticed it first. "Padfoot, what is _that _on your neck?"

Sirius, whose unfocused eyes suggested he was off in some dreamy alternate reality, stared confusedly at James a moment, and then grinned devilishly. "Oh _that_?" He pulled open the collar of his jumper more so that Remus and Peter could also see it as well: a red spot roughly the size of a Knut on the side of his neck. "That, gentlemen, is what we call a 'hickey'."

Remus raised an eyebrow. "Helena's work, I presume?"

"Oh, she does work wonders, doesn't she?" Sirius replied dreamily, gazing upward into space, no doubt re-visiting in his mind what must have just transpired between him and Helena Yeats.

On February the 9th, at around 7 o'clock in the evening, Remus received a special call from his parents to return home straight away. Along with the official form of approval signed by Dumbledore and McGonagall and the note that his father had addressed to _them_, Remus also received the actual note that was meant for_him_ personally.

_9 February 1977_

_Dear Remus,_

_It's a boy! Your mum's had the baby, and it's a boy! I've written a note for Professor Dumbledore giving you permission to come home for a weekend visit so you can meet him. We've named him Ramirus. We figured since you were named after your great-uncle Remus, we should name your brother after your other great-uncle, Ramirus, so there you are! Though of course, his middle name is for your mum's father, Neal. _

_Hope to see you soon!_

_Love,_

_Dad_

Remus blinked. _Ramirus Neal Lupin. Not bad. _After he wrote a reply to his father's letter and notified Dumbledore that he would be leaving that Friday afternoon as soon as he was finished with his classes, he told his friends the news of his newborn brother. And then on Friday he met his father at the gates, who hugged him and took him home via Side-Along Apparition (Remus found that if this was what Apparating felt like, he wasn't sure he liked it too much, and now only really wanted to learn it because it was a practical thing to be able to do—and have a license for, for that matter).

"Jo! Rammy! We're home!" John announced cheerfully as he and Remus entered the Lupins' home in the deciduous forest.

"In the kitchen!"

"I'll take my bags up to my room first, Dad," said Remus.

"Good idea," said John. "Don't be too long though."

"I won't." Remus took his bags up like he said he would, and then came back down. As he entered the kitchen, he wondered why he felt so apprehensive about meeting his new sibling.

"Ah, Remus, there you are," said John, beaming. He had been bending over something Joanne was holding in her arms, while Joanne sat at the kitchen table with her back to the door.

As John straightened up, Joanne looked over her shoulder and beamed at Remus too. "Remus, come see," she said, her voice filled with excitement.

Remus came around the kitchen table. His father took a step back to make room, and there bundled up in a white blanket in his mother's arms was a tiny baby. He could only see little Ramirus Lupin's exposed face, for the rest was tucked inside the cloth. On his head was a tuft of pale brown hair, and he fixed Remus with silvery eyes, which he then shut tight as he let out a tiny sneeze, followed by a tiny cough.

"Oh! Bless you!" said Joanne, raising Ramirus up higher so she could nuzzle his nose with hers. "Doesn't he look like Remus, John?"

"He certainly does," said John, who reached out with his index finger and lightly stroked his second-born son's cheek.

Joanne looked up at Remus expectantly. "What do you think? Would you like to hold him?"

"Er…." Remus took an involuntary step backwards. The truth was that he really didn't know what to make of this infant child that seemed to have suddenly appeared into his life, even though he knew it was coming months in advance. All he could do was stare at Ramirus with apprehension. He never thought of himself as an older brother, and now he _was _one. What would that mean for his parents, trying to raise a child while their older one was a rampaging werewolf once a month? Of course, that wasn't the only thing bothering Remus. Ramirus' arrival was going to complicate all of the Lupins' lives, and Remus had enough complication in his life already.

He felt his father touch his shoulder and saw that he was fixing him with a gaze of paternal warmth. "It's okay, son. Just give it a go. He wiggles a bit—like you did, but you won't drop him or anything."

"Okay," said Remus, sinking down into a chair next to his mother. He held out his arms as she handed Ramirus off to him.

"Just make sure you support his head now," she instructed. "Kind of let it rest on your elbow."

As Remus felt the weight of his little brother slowly sink into his arms, he half-panicked and held him close to his chest, extremely conscientious of supporting the head on the crook of his arm, where his elbow was. His eyes widened as he stared down at the tiny person he now held, and had to admit that there was a thrill to the experience—and _he _was just the brother: he couldn't begin to imagine what his father must be feeling. Yet now he didn't see Ramirus so much as a complication, but an addition—an addition that he was willing to assist with if need be. "Hey there, little bro," he said softly with a grin.

Ramirus stared back, blinking.

Remus looked up at his parents, still grinning. "He's really cute," he said sincerely.

Later on, when John had taken Ramirus from Remus and carried him to the bassinet in the living room, they found Remus watching Ramirus while he slept, and then as he woke, Remus reached out a finger and let Ramirus grasp it. Remus commented on how strong his grip was for such a tiny person. And then he noticed a small birthmark on the right side of Ramirus' neck that resembled a five-point star. He asked his parents if they'd noticed. They told him that they had.

That evening, Remus could be found sketching in his sketch book a picture of Ramirus awake and Ramirus asleep, paying excellent attention (as he always did) to detail. Every picture he'd sketched was of someone he knew, someone close to him, and even a few strangers—and he knew their every line and wrinkle and dimple and curve and mark by heart. But the only drawings he ever added color to were the ones of Lily, and that was for the sake of her fiery red hair and her almond-shaped eyes that were like green peridots filtering sunlight.


	14. The Hand of Death

**Chapter Fourteen**

**The Hand of Death **

Remus returned to Hogwarts that Sunday evening. On the way he realized that he had a little less than a month until his seventeenth birthday—the day he would come of age. He was rather excited for that because then he'd be able to show his parents his wandless magic tricks.

In the meantime he found himself going from sketching people to sketching objects, both natural and man-made. However he was dissatisfied with the limits of charcoal, because with merely charcoal, he could not capture the beauty of light on melting snow. Shadow without color was easy, but without color, there could be no depiction of light. One afternoon when he was sitting beneath the beech tree by the lake, furiously sketching from memory the giant squid's tentacle rising above the lake's glassy surface, he felt the desire to go back through his older sketches. Aside from the ones of Lily, all of which he'd colored in with colored pencils, everything else was merely parchment and charcoal—black and white, which mixed together made gray. Remus sighed, pondering how gray his own life was—not to mention his hair: that morning he'd discovered a couple more gray hairs on his head. He didn't have nearly enough of it to even be remotely noticeable, but it was still there, and he knew it.

"Drawing again, are we?"

Remus gasped and looked up from his pad to see Lily. She and no other. She was smiling at him and shielding her eyes from the sun with her hand. "Er…y-yes," said Remus, his face growing hot. He couldn't let her see…he couldn't let her see that he'd been drawing her to the point of obsession….

"May I see?" she asked, stepping closer to him.

"N-No," he replied hastily, shutting the sketchpad and hugging it to his chest while he clutched his charcoal pencil in his hand. He could have kicked himself when he saw that she was slightly hurt by his answer.

"You let James, Sirius, and Peter see," she argued.

That was true. They had seen every last one of his drawings—except for the ones of Lily of course, which he managed to expertly conceal while showcasing his work to them—and they'd all told him he was a "real _bon artiste_" (of course they'd all chosen to pronounce the French in Cockney accents—and Sirius had particularly enjoyed the pictures of himself, adding that Remus really knew how to bring out someone's best profile). Yet even so, it was different with Lily. He feared he did not have the strength to resist temptation in her presence, and giving in to temptation was both the last _and _first thing he wanted to do.

"Remus, come on," Lily urged him as he avoided her gaze, taking interest in a nearby blade of grass instead. "Just a little peek. James said you drew a couple sketches of your brother. Can't I at least see _him_?"

Remus raised his eyes and considered her proposal. Just showing her his sketches of Ramirus wouldn't hurt, would it?

No! He couldn't even make the slightest bit of room for her. He had to keep away from her—while she still wanted him around, that is, rather than get close and then have her so disgusted with him that she never wanted to lay eyes on him again. He wanted to stay friends. That way they were guaranteed to _always _be together….

Resolutely he rose to his feet, tucking his sketchbook underneath his arm and sticking his charcoal pencil in his jacket pocket. "Maybe another time. I…er…have to go…. Erm…bye!" He hurried away, his gait accelerating to a jog as he retreated up to the castle, ignoring the sound of Lily yelling earnestly after him. Just to be sure he'd get to the solitude of Gryffindor tower as soon as possible, he decided to take the shortcut. But as he pushed open the tapestry that hid the shortcut's corridor, he came face to face with a private moment between Sirius and his girlfriend, Helena Yeats.

Helena had Sirius pinned against the wall, her hands grasping him by the shoulders, the two of them with their eyes closed, fiercely kissing almost as if one another's lips weren't lips at all, but rather hot, melted, mozzarella cheese. Sirius in turn was allowing his hands to travel down Helena's back. Then when one hand continued on towards her buttocks, she took one hand off of him and, without breaking the kiss, gave his mischievous hand a firm smack. He gave a grunt, but did not break the kiss either as he obediently brought his hand up and decided to tangle the fingers in her brunette curls instead. Helena seemed to like that and responded by twining her arms around Sirius' neck, and Sirius tightened his hold on her, hungrily deepening the kiss. Then when they finally came up for air, both of them breathless, Sirius noticed Remus standing there dumbstruck, and gave a yelp. Helena turned and gave a yelp too.

"I'm sorry!" Remus exclaimed, edging passed them. "I was just…erm…running…er…see?" And he supported his argument by turning tail and sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him down the shortcut corridor to Gryffindor tower.

Later that evening, while Remus, James, and Peter were doing homework by the common room fire, Helena stormed in through the portrait hole and stamped over to the girls' dormitories and up the stone steps before they heard a door slam.

Next Sirius came skulking in. On his way over to them he vehemently kicked the leg of a chair before plopping down between James and Remus and folding his arms. Considering the circumstances of when Remus had last seen Sirius, he was afraid he had something to do with whatever was going on between Helena and him, and he felt guilty and a little afraid—only because he had witnessed Sirius' temper get the better of him, and it was never pretty. He'd also witnessed Sirius' tendency to fall into a brooding, sulky mood get the better of him too, and that wasn't too pleasing to behold either.

"What's up with you and Helena, Padfoot?" James inquired, closing his potions book.

"Helena and I've just sacked it off," said Sirius gruffly, not bothering to beat around the bush.

"What for?"

"Bloody paranoid. Thinks I'm _loose_. Convinced I've been cheating on her left and right, right under her nose."

"Why would she think that?"

"Because _flocks_ of birds still chase after me even after I've _settled _on one for a change! In fact, I think they were doing it _on purpose_ to get her away from me. I'll bet they _knew _she'd get all touchy about them always trying to have a go with me. I mean sometimes they'd come up and start running their hands through my hair—" Here Sirius unconsciously ran his hand through his short, black hair "—Didn't even have the decency to ask permission! People don't like that, no matter how…er…gorgeous they are. Anyway—"

"You know, Padfoot," said Peter thoughtfully, closing his potions book as well, "you _have _gotten a tad vain lately."

"What? I _have _not!"

"He's right, actually," said James. "I mean come on, you couldn't stop staring at Moony's drawings of you. You kept praising at how well they portrayed your…erm…best profile, or whatever."

Sirius opened his mouth to deny that, but then realized that his friend was right. He slouched back in his chair. Some of the anger was ebbing away, but now he was sulking even more. "Yeah, you're right. I guess I did act a bit self-centered around her. Come to think of it, I was more concerned with her getting to know _me_ that I kind of forgot about getting to know _her_. _Really _know her, I mean."

"But…it had nothing to do with…er…me?" Remus asked tentatively, closing his potions book too.

Sirius glanced up at him. And then he let out a bark of laughter, his demeanor brightening considerably. "Oh God no! No, no, had nothing to do with you. But I'll admit Moony that that was about the most hilarious thing I've ever seen in my life!"

"What was?" James and Peter asked with grinning interest.

All four of them laughed until they had tears in their eyes when Sirius recounted the events of earlier that afternoon, when Remus had accidently stumbled upon Sirius and Helena's final make-out session mere hours before their break-up.

"Merlin, Moony! That's brilliant!" laughed James, half-sliding off of the sofa and onto Sirius, who was sliding off the sofa even further.

Peter, who took a moment to control his giggles, squealed, "Ooh! That _reminds _me! Cissy—"

"Oh it's 'Cissy' now, is it?" Sirius teased, straightening back up in his chair.

"Oh, hush up, Padfoot!" Peter laughed, throwing a ball of crumpled up parchment at Sirius, which hit Sirius square in the face.

The group burst into more peals of laughter. Remus was now sliding out of his seat too, pounding his fist on the arm of it. One who didn't understand the pure infectiousness of laughter and hilarity, might have mistaken them all for having drunk too much firewhiskey.

"Sorry, Wormtail, go on," said Sirius, wiping his eyes.

"Anyway," Peter giggled, "as I was saying: Cissy wrote back to me today telling me how much she enjoyed our stroll around the lake yesterday!"

"That's excellent, mate!" said James, clapping him on the back.

"We're proud of you," said Sirius, stretching out and folding his hands behind his head. "So, did you get as far as nuzzling noses this time—only joking!"

But Peter was blushing. "She…er…apparently she, erm…knows how to French kiss."

"Oooooh…" James and Sirius said in unison, exchanging glances.

"Wormy, you're so innocent," Remus added thoughtfully, resting his cheek in his hand as he rested his elbow on the arm of the chair.

"Yeah," said Sirius, still grinning. "Promise us you'll always stay that way? We'd hate to lose you."

* * *

The tenth of March was Remus' birthday, and this year it was his seventeenth—the day he came of age. The full moon the previous week had been about the best one in his life, and now as he awoke on the morning of his big seventeen, he couldn't help but awaken with a light and happy spirit. Anything that happened pleased him. Even when he spilled an ingredient on himself during potions accidentally later that day, he could not but laugh. Afterward, Lily gave him her present—his very own Wizard Wireless radio, knowing how much he loved music. Straight after classes, James, Sirius, and Peter dragged him to the common room—away from the library—and forced him to tear open the presents they'd got him.

The one from Peter was a book on code-breaking, ("For your Department of Mysteries career, you know?"). It came with a free codex which Remus knew he'd find amusing to fiddle with whenever he grew bored.

Next was the one from Sirius. It was a golden compass, enchanted to take you to the one place on Earth that you feel the safest whenever you're lost.

"It's the only one in the whole entire world," Sirius told him. "Saying it's 'rare' is just a bit of an understatement."

"But…why are you giving it to _me_?"

"You just always seem to be losing your way a lot, Moony," said Sirius seriously.

Remus raised an eyebrow. "This isn't a Black family heirloom, is it?"

"Actually, it is," said Sirius. "But that's not why I'm giving it to you. Like I said, you always seem to lose your way a little. You see, my Aunt Arista—she was my uncle Alphard's sister—just passed away, and she was childless, and from what little I've told her and Uncle Alphard, Alphard felt that Aunt Arista would have wanted you to have it."

Remus, James, and Peter all exchanged significant glances. They knew how hard it was for Sirius at home. Only a few members of the Black family cared for him, accepted him for the oddball that he was in his otherwise pure-blood crazed birthright, and all of those relatives didn't live with him and hardly ever saw him at all. At home, Sirius was liable to get beaten with his father's cane for misbehaving, for going against his family's values: just this past summer, he'd been beaten because in addition to the Gryffindor-themed décor, he'd added posters of Muggle magazine models on the walls in his bedroom, and had put them there with Permanent Sticking Charms. Then for the rest of the summer they'd had Kreacher tail him wherever he went in the Black house, and was instructed to bite Sirius if Sirius misbehaved (on the train he'd showed them the bite marks). So Sirius had gone over James' house a lot—somehow, without his family knowing. It was as if he'd done this sort of thing before, sneaking off to meet a secret friend, but had made a mistake before and had now perfected his art so he could sneak off to visit James without getting caught. And while at James', Sirius had received those wooing lessons that seemed to have successfully landed him with Helena Yeats—even though now of course they were through.

"Cheers, Padfoot," Remus said gratefully.

Sirius smiled and punched Remus playfully on the shoulder.

Last was James' present. It was an alexandrite the size of the ball part of a Snitch, and it spun around in midair throwing the most beautiful rainbow patterns on the carpets and walls and furniture, and on the four faces of the boys—no, the _young men_—gathered there in the Gryffindor common room.

"It's beautiful," said Remus, "but why I do I feel like this isn't _all _it does?"

"You'll have to wait for that," said James with a wink. "It's a surprise."

Remus rolled his eyes, but then he gave James a sincere thanks for the gift. He then sent all of their presents—Lily's included as well—up to his bed in the sixth-year boys' dormitory.

TAP-TAP-TAP!

Remus and his friends looked to the window. Remus' heart leapt with joy: it was his family's owl, Blodeuwedd—this meant his present from them had arrived! He hopped up and ran over to the window to let the barn owl inside. The owl swooped in and dropped the envelope containing the birthday card, and the small, box-shaped, birthday parcel in the armchair that Remus had just been occupying, and then flew back out into the bright, late afternoon sunshine. Remus closed the window again—it was still not hot enough to have the windows left open yet.

"That's the present from your mum and dad, right?" said Peter.

"Yep," said Remus, striding over to his chair with a wide grin. Just as he was about to pick up the envelope and open it to read the card, the portrait hole swung open and Professor McGonagall walked into the room (this was different) and following her was (this was really different) Professor Dumbledore. Remus did not like the somber looks on their faces.

"Remus," said Professor McGonagall in an unexpectedly gentle tone, inexplicably addressing him by his first name, "the headmaster and I require a private word with you on a matter of utmost importance." Ah. There was the usual formalities.

"And we would prefer it if it the word was private," Dumbledore added, eyeing James, Sirius, and Peter sitting in their armchairs.

Remus glanced quizzically at his friends, and then asked: "Sir, if you wanted it to be private, why didn't you call me to your office?"

Dumbledore and McGonagall exchanged odd looks.

And then Dumbledore heaved a sigh, looking exhausted. He then smiled weakly and said, "I thought I'd save you the trouble, seeing at it is your birthday—and your _seventeenth _birthday, no less."

"Black! Potter! Pettigrew!" McGonagall barked. "Off you go then! I'm sure Remus will come find you when he sees fit after the headmaster and I have spoken with him."

James, Sirius, and Peter, all began squawking protests at once, yet McGonagall silenced them with a look.

But Remus had an ominous feeling about what Dumbledore and McGonagall had to say to him, and he didn't want his friends to be sent away. He didn't want to face this alone, whatever it was. "I'd like them to stay, please, sir, if it's alright with you," he told Dumbledore softly.

Dumbledore looked him in the eyes.

Remus tried to read his headmaster, but there was no cracking the code on those mystifying, enigmatic blue orbs set behind those half-moon spectacles. One thing Remus could see however was the unmistakable traces of sadness, and this puzzled him even more.

"Very well," Dumbledore said at last. "Perhaps it is better this way. Please, Remus, have a seat." He motioned to Remus' chair, which still had the card and present from his parents sitting in it.

Remus moved them over and sat down.

Dumbledore and McGonagall strode around the chairs and came to stand before them with the lit fireplace behind them.

"First of all," McGonagall began, "I want you all to swear that you will keep this quiet, as it pertains to the secret business of the Order of the Phoenix."

Remus, James, Sirius, and Peter looked around at each other in bewilderment, and then nodded to the professors, affirming that they would keep the information secret, and just amongst friends they could trust.

Dumbledore spoke directly to Remus: "There is no easy way to say this, Remus. I'm afraid that late this morning your mother and father were found dead in a forest a few miles outside of London."

Remus spastically grasped the arms of the chair in which he sat. The air in the room seemed to grow thinner, and there was a burning, writhing sensation in his stomach. A burning that gradually rose to the back of his throat. "W-What?" he stammered, wide-eyed. "M-My...parents…_dead_…?"

"I'm sorry, Remus." In the headmaster's eyes, Remus saw a depth of sadness so sincere that it spoke of genuine heartfelt sorrow and empathy. It also spoke as a confirmation of the terrible truth that had been divulged to him.

Remus' breathing grew shallow, his whole world crashing around him, turning into a ship that was sinking fast into the sea. "But—But h-how…?"

"According to the Order of the Phoenix," said McGonagall, whose face also bore an expression of genuine sympathy, "though we are not certain as to whether or not any of them were suspected Death Eaters, we _are _certain that it was an act of murder committed by a group of followers of Lord Voldemort."

This time, Remus did not flinch at the sound of the name. This time, no _one _flinched, save for Peter. This time, it was different. This time, it didn't matter if no one said the name or not, because the wrath of Voldemort had just touched his own personal life for the first time…the war had spilled its blood onto his family…he would never fear to utter the name again.

But he didn't want his parents' deaths to be true…. It wasn't possible that he would never be able to show his parents his wandless magic…never again tell his mother about what he was up to in his studies at school…never again ask his father for advice on something when he couldn't decide for himself, even after going over the problem hundreds of times in his head…never again feel his mother's warm arms enfold him, giving him a smile that always hid how she constantly worried about him…never again have his father ruffle his hair and grin proudly at him….

And then…what about Ramirus? Quickly he looked up at Dumbledore and said, "And my little brother?"

"Thankfully the Order found your brother alive and well in the trunk of a tree nearby. It is possible that your family had been trying to run, because your parents' bodies were found far apart from each other, which suggests that your father may have tried to hold them off and give your mother a chance to run for it with your brother, and your mother had hid your brother, who was wearing a protective amulet around his neck that would ensure him that he would only be discovered by people who did not wish him harm, and then shortly after hiding him, your mother was killed by the attackers, after they had killed your father." Dumbledore sighed and continued. "I assume that you are the only family your brother has left?"

Remus nodded. He was sweaty all over, and yet he felt so cold.

"Well, since you are of age, you ought to have the right to obtain full custody of him, however, even if you _were _ready to take on an infant of not but one month and one day old, the fact that you alone are his surviving family combined with the fact that you are a werewolf does complicate things. It's possible you may never be granted custody of him until either A: you are married, or B: if Ramirus were to be turned into a werewolf as well."

Remus shuddered at the thought.

"For now, however," Dumbledore went on, "we will not worry, since you are still in school in any case. And do not fear for little Ramirus, either. He is presently being kept and well-cared for at the orphanage attached to Saint Mungo's Hospital, and you are, in fact, allowed to visit him whenever you like. I would also like to inform you that Order members searched your house for anything resembling a last will and testament, and they found the birthday present your parents were planning to owl to you once they had returned home, and it was mailed to you promptly with your family's owl. They also _did _find your father's will, and he has left you everything he owns—his money, his watch shop, his old broomstick, the house—everything."

Remus lowered his eyes to his lap and folded his hands in it, feeling nothing but numbness. "Thank you, sir," he said mechanically. At the moment he desired nothing more than solitude. He looked up at Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall and said politely, "Will you excuse me?" Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed the present from his parents and ran up to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. Vaguely he heard the sounds of James and Sirius and Peter calling after him, but he paid them no mind.

As soon as he was upstairs he shut the door behind him. The presents from his friends sat at the foot of his bed. He sat down at the head of it, set the small, box-shaped parcel beside him, and tore open the envelope. Unfolding it, he read:

_10 March, 1977_

_Happy Birthday, Remus! _

_Your father being in the profession that he is, took it upon himself to make your present—a present which happens to be a traditional coming-of-age present for witches and wizards. Now, we know that it will remind you of your least favourite time, but it's beautifully made, and with your father's own hands too. We are both so very proud of you son, and we love you so much. _

Below that were his parents' signatures of "Mum" and "Dad", and then there was added, "and Ramirus too!"

An odd burning sensation erupted in the back of Remus' throat as he read the letter, written in his mother's warm, gentle hand. He took a deep, shuddering breath and set the letter aside, taking up the parcel instead. He tore it open to find a find a cherry wood box. He lifted the lid and inside, cushioned by red velvet lining was—

A watch. A watch crafted by his father, the watchmaker. It was the finest watch he had ever crafted, and he'd done for his son…his first-born son….

This watch was gold and had six moons instead of hands. Each moon sported a different phase in the moon's monthly cycle, and they all glowed brilliantly against the misty night sky background as if each of them were the real moon….

His mother had been right…it _did _remind him of his least favorite time…but he loved it so much…because his father had made it himself…for _him_….

"_Wondered where you'd got to, son," said John Lupin when they'd reached him, giving a laugh that sounded half-amused and half-anxious…._

The watch shop was his now…what was _he _going to do with a watch shop? He'd have to sell it. He'd need the money anyway, seeing as how he'd have to fend for himself from now on. Yes, that's what he'd do, he thought as he set his watch and the letter from his parents on the bedside table. He'd sell it.

"_Oh…sorry," Remus muttered. He looked up at his mother, and saw that she was smiling fragilely at him._

"_You're growing up so fast, Remus," she said fondly, reaching out and running her fingers lightly through his bangs, smoothing them out…._

Remus fought the urge to cry out and got to his feet. He gathered up the presents from his friends and locked them in his trunk.

_Her voice cracked slightly when she said his name, and Remus thought she might start crying. Ever since he'd become a werewolf she was nearly always openly vexed about him. _

"_Mum? Dad?" he said quietly. "Do you know what Dumbledore's planning to do about my—my problem?"_

"_He just said someone would come to take you up to the hospital wing," his father answered. "And you and he and Madam Pomfrey will talk about everything there. I don't know when; probably tonight, after the feast." He checked his watch. "It's nearly eleven, Jo…."_

Remus sat on the edge of his bed and kicked off his shoes.

_Joanne Lupin put her arms around Remus' shoulders. She kissed him on the forehead then pressed his hair against her cheek, clutching him. Remus returned the embrace, wishing she didn't fret so much. She had good reason to over-worry, but he still wished that she wouldn't. _

"_Jo," John said softly. "He's got to get going." _

_Joanne finally released Remus, cupping his face in her hands for a moment before pulling away completely and straightening up. Remus saw her wipe flusteredly at her eyes…._

Remus rose again and went over to his bag. He knelt beside it and dug out his ink bottle and his pheasant feather quill.

"_Take care, son," said John, pulling Remus into a very fierce hug that Remus had not braced himself for. He couldn't remember his father ever embracing him so tightly. Luckily he didn't try to prolong the embrace, like Joanne had. When he released him, he sniffed, taking a tiny step back as he reached out to ruffle his son's hair. "You'll do fantastically," he said…. _

Remus returned to his bed and pulled out his journal from the drawer of his bedside table. He dipped his quill in his ink. As he wrote, the pen moved slowly across the page, recounting the events of the day like a dream.

_When Remus woke up in his bed the following morning, he woke not to his mother, as he normally did when he was at home, but to his father…._

"_Hey, Dad," he said groggily. _

_John smiled that smile of his that was half-affectionate, half-mournfully guilty. He reached over and brushed a few bangs out of Remus' face, and then absently ruffled his hair. "You're brave, you know that, son? I'm proud of you…." _

But when it came to writing the reflection, to writing about he how he felt, his mind was a blank. He paused, set his journal and quill aside, and picked up his parents' letter. He reread it…and reread it again….

* * *

Ted was lost in reading the last of Remus' entry for the tenth of March:

_My life is in shambles. There's a sombre shadow floating inside of me. I want to cry. I WANT to, and yet I find myself even now fighting the urge to do it. Why? Why can't I let myself do it? Ever since I was bitten, I let Mum do all the crying. But Mum's not here anymore. I hate this! This isn't fair! I want them back! I don't want them to be dead! I have all of this…SHIT to deal with now! I have to sell the watch shop…I have to live in that house alone and take care of myself…somehow…. And Ramirus…. What of him? I'll never be allowed to look after him myself…he'll be stuck in that orphanage for the rest of his life, and all I can do is visit him…. He'll never know Mum and Dad…. I hate my life! I hate that I want to cry but I won't let myself! How stupid is that? I want to break things, tear things, rip things! I want to kill the bastards who murdered my parents! I'll find out who they are, and when I do, I'll track them down and kill them! I'll wait until full moon…and then I'll slaughter them all! _

Ted shuddered at his father's dark thoughts bent on revenge. As he turned the page, folded up pieces of parchment fell out. Ted picked them up and opened them, discovering that they were letters from his father's parents. There was the one his John had written, telling Remus of the birth of his little brother, Ramirus, and then there was the letter Joanne had written, sending him birthday wishes from all _three _of them.

And then he remembered the watch he'd received for _his _seventeenth birthday. His grandmother said it had been his father's. Ted dug it out of his pocket and looked at it. The description in Remus' journal matched it perfectly.

This watch had been handmade by Remus' father…by Ted's paternal _grand_father….

Surprisingly enough, this thought left him feeling rather empty inside. Despondently he checked the time on his father's old watch that was now his, and read that it was now two o'clock in the morning. He should go to sleep now. He had exams to study for later…he had classes…he had French lessons at lunch with Victoire….

He set the watch and the letters on his bedside table. He closed the journal and stuck it back into the Answers box, which he then transfigured back into a gold Gobstone. He rolled over underneath the covers and closed his eyes.

His sleep was restless, filled over and over with the same dream—the dream of his own parents saying goodbye to him as a baby before leaving him forever.

* * *

"No more reading that journal," Rodger said flat out over breakfast. He'd had to drag Ted out of bed, having decided that he wouldn't let him have a lie in and skip breakfast this time.

It didn't matter though. Ted had fallen asleep in his bowl of cornflakes anyway. "_Wanna_…read it…" he protested in a mumble, which was half-gurgled by the milk that had been poured onto his cereal.

"Ted, we've got exams in a couple of weeks, we've got the Quidditch final _this _Saturday!" Rodger argued. "You can't go on like this! You're sleeping in your _cereal _for Merlin's sake! Come on, get your head out of there before some git from Slytherin has a go at you."

Ted sluggishly raised his head, one half of it dripping with milk with a few cornflakes stuck to his cheek and his hair. "Not all gits are Slytherins," he grumbled. "And not all Slytherins are gits either."

"Sorry," said Rodger, conjuring a towel and throwing it at Ted, hitting him full in the face with it.

"_Qu'est-ce que c'est?_" Victoire asked Ted later on at lunch, holding up her wand for him to see.

Ted, who was lazily stirring the potatoes, meat, carrots, celery, onion, gravy, and other assorted vegetables in his bowl of stew, looked up and dived into his newly acquired French vocabulary and grammar. "Er…." _She said, "What's this?", and…wand…what's the word for wand…? Oh yeah! _"_C'est une baguette_," he said.

"_Completement?_" said Victoire, raising her eyebrows.

Ted rolled his eyes. "_C'est une baguette _magique_._ Even though _you _said you often just say _baguette _without adding the _magique_."

"Yes, but _baguette _alone can also be the bread."

"Okay, why is it that the word for wand is also the word for a kind of bread in French?"

"Don't ask me, I didn't make up the language."

"Well, I thought the word was _baton_, actually. Or I thought it _would _be, anyway. You know, like in Beaux_batons _Academy of Magic?"

"Yes, but that's not the right word for it. I think that the founders of Beauxbatons were probably thinking of calling it Beauxbaguettes...but no, it'd be _Belles_baguettes because _baguette _is feminine—Ted? Are you all right?"

Ted looked up and saw that Victoire's face was bent with concern. He sighed and said, "I just read up to the part where my dad finds out his parents have been murdered by Voldemort's followers."

"Oh." Victoire covered her mouth with her hands. After a moment she lowered it and said in a hushed voice: "I'm sorry, Ted. Did that—Did that make you…think about…losing your _own _parents?"

"Yeah, not that _I _actually _recall _losing _my _parents, but yeah, it _did_."

For a moment the two of them sat in silence. Ted glanced over at the monumental plaque set into the floor in the middle of the Great Hall. He knew it was the plaque marking the place where the epic duel between Voldemort and his godfather, Harry Potter, had taken place, years ago. And a mere hour or so before that event occurred, the life had been wiped from the bodies of both of his parents….

"Do you know what the French word for 'remembrance' is?" Victoire's voice asked.

"What?"

"_Souvenir_."

Ted turned to look at her tentatively smiling face. He found that the sight of her produced an uplifting effect on his otherwise bereft mood. He managed a smile and said, "_Nous pouvons continuer?_"

* * *

Rodger made Ted study everything that night, for at least three hours, before he allowed him to crack open his father's journals to continue reading them.

"Just let me test you one more time on the twelve uses of dragon's blood!" Rodger called after him as Ted hurried up the steps to the dormitory. "I'm not sure you've got them all down solid!"

"I do! I do!"

"Ted! Ted!"

"_What_?!" Ted whirled around to see Bartholomew Spinnet blinking at him, as if taken aback. "Sorry," he muttered. "What's up, Spin?"

"Professor Longbottom asked me to give you this," said Bartholomew somewhat uncertainly, handing him a folded piece of parchment.

"Er…thanks. See you at practice tomorrow."

"Right."

Ted opened the letter and read as he made his way up the steps:

_4 May 2015_

_I spoke with Professor Bones this morning, and she said that because the year is almost over, she would like to start you on your lessons in wandless magic when you return to school next year for your seventh year. Good for you! _

Ted couldn't help but smile. He folded up the note and stuck it in his bag, and then went into the sixth-year boys' dormitory and took out his father's journal.

* * *

"Remus?" said James. "You look…_terrible_…."

Remus opened one eye, and saw his three friends all looking at him concernedly. He groaned and rolled over, burying himself beneath the covers.

"Come on, mate," Sirius coaxed gently. "You've got your Apparition test today. If you pass, then you can see your little bro whenever you like."

"Well, not _whenever_," said Peter. "Just when you don't have class."

"Oh, hush up, Peter. You think he cares about classes right now?"

Remus wasn't listening. He was finding it hard to believe that it was only the day after his birthday…and approximately thirteen hours ago he'd found out that his parents were dead…murdered. After he'd finished writing in his journal, he'd slipped under the covers and slept. In his clothes. He _never _slept in his clothes…except for that one time…that one time…when later the next morning his father had woke him up to tell him that his mother was pregnant…with Ramirus….

He gritted his teeth against the pain the memory brought him, because remembering his parents reminded him that all he _had _anymore were memories.

"Remus, you can't miss your test," said Sirius. "You can skive off your classes…I recommend it, considering the state you're in, but not the test. Don't skive off the test."

Remus threw off the covers and sat up. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and faced his friends. "Yes. I'm aware that I slept in my clothes. And my hair's probably atrocious."

"Remus…your hair's turning grey!" Peter squealed, pointing.

"Calm down, Wormtail!" said James, trying to lighten the situation. "It's just a side effect of lycanthropy."

Remus got up and examined himself in the mirror. His hair was still mostly brown. There was just a few strands now, making the change more prominent. He gritted his teeth again as he recalled his mother overreacting about his very first grey hair. And then he noticed a steely flash in his brown eyes, under which there were dark circles. He squinted. The corners of his mouth twitched mirthlessly at how dangerous he looked. He turned away from the mirror and left the dormitory, forgetting his friends standing there.

He went down to Hogsmeade for his Apparition test, and passed it with flying colors. Afterwards, he went to Dumbledore and requested permission to leave the school and visit Ramirus at the orphanage.

Dumbledore peered at him over his half-moon spectacles and said, "You realize that you haven't been to any of your classes today?"

"Yes, sir," said Remus mechanically.

Dumbledore sighed. "Very well. You now have your Apparition license, and you _are _of age, of course. Off you go, then."

* * *

Remus stared down at his baby brother in the bassinet in the infant nursery at St. Mungo's orphanage.

Ramirus waved his fists in the air and lazily kicked his legs. He had his pacifier in his mouth and he was sucking on it, his silvery eyes fixed on Remus.

Remus reached down and grasped Ramirus' tiny hand in his thumb and his first and middle fingers.

Ramirus wrapped his tiny digits around Remus' first finger.

"Don't you worry, kid," Remus whispered. "I'm still here. I'm still here."

Ramirus let go of his hand and reached up with his arms.

Remus managed a smile for Ramirus' sake as he scooped him up in his arms like he'd been picking up one-year-olds for years. While Remus held his baby brother against him, he made a vow to his parents that he wouldn't let anything happen to Ramirus.

* * *

Remus was keeping too much to himself—more than usual, anyway. His friends kept trying to talk to him, but he always gave them the signal that he wished nothing more than to be left alone. He didn't want to talk about his parents dying. What he _did _want was to hunt down his parents' killers and bring them down like helpless prey. At the moment, however, Dumbledore was keeping an annoyingly close watch on him, as though expecting him to run off one day, disregard his school work—which was sliding anyway—and embark on a mission to avenge the deaths of his mother and father. He was trying to keep Remus in school, so that he would complete his studies as he should.

As if that mattered! Remus simply bided his time. Mostly he just withdrew to the dormitory, sketching, instead of doing homework and studying for exams early (like he normally did). One afternoon, sitting alone on the edge of his bed in the dormitory, Remus heard a soft knock on the door. He had his drawings out, and he was in the middle of sketching a violent picture of a wolf killing a deer.

"Remus?"

Remus stiffened. It was Lily.

"Remus? Can I come in?" her muffled voice inquired through the door.

"No," Remus growled.

"Well, I'm coming in anyway."

"No!"

The door opened…and there was Lily…standing there…immaculate as ever.

Hastily Remus began gathering up his drawings and sketches. "I _told _you not to come in!" he snapped.

"You've been telling a _lot _of people that lately," Lily said coolly, closing the door behind her. "I see you still don't want me looking at your drawings."

"What do you _mean _I've been telling a lot of people not to come in?" Remus demanded, hastily piling his sketches together and ignoring her second comment.

Lily came over and sat on the edge of the bed next to Remus'.

Remus stopped gathering up his sketches and glared at her.

"You know, James' uncle, Everard Potter, was murdered trying to stop a witch by the name of Araminta Meliflua, from murdering a Muggle boy," said Lily.

"He still has his _parents _though, doesn't he?"

"Death is death, Remus."

"And _you'd _know something about that?"

"You know Remus, everyone in life has to deal with the deaths of people they know, even people they love if they have the capacity for it, which _most _people do, though it may not always seem that way at first."

"What's your bloody point?"

"The point is that _you're _not the only one in the whole bleeding world who's _dealing _with it! James has dealt with it too! _And _Sirius!"

"So?"

"You won't _talk _to them! Remus, my God, when I look at you now, I see stony hatred in your eyes!"

"What do _you _care? You and James are cozy enough without me around!"

"I _care _about you! I _do _care! And so does James, and Sirius, and Peter! And everyone else!"

Remus' blood was boiling, his pulse was rushing. All he could do was glare at her…this young woman whom he loved….

The burning sensation he'd been fighting all week returned to the back of his throat. His eyes grew hot. He looked away from Lily, clenching his fists and grinding his teeth.

"Remus..."

He felt her hand on his fist. He gasped and recoiled, staring at her in wide-eyed amazement. He gazed hard into her green eyes…so fiery…yet so soft and tender….

All his anger melted away without pretense. He suddenly felt weak. He could no longer hold in the wave of cries he'd been holding in since he'd first heard of his parents' deaths. His breathing grew shallow like it did before…and the air was thinning like it did before…. Water filled his eyes and blurred his vision.

He let out a whimper. Then he let out another. And another. And another. And another…until he was crying quietly, with his hand clapped over his mouth, tears streaming freely down his cheeks.

Lily rose and sat down beside him. She tried to put her arms around him, but he wouldn't let her. Gently, he shoved her away.

He turned his back to her and grasped a hold of the headboard, clinging onto it as if for dear life. Vaguely, he heard the rustle of papers behind him, and realized with a jolt that she was poking through his drawings. Yet he did nothing to stop her. He was too frozen with fear…fear that she would come across his drawings of her—the only ones that he'd taken the time to color.

"Is this him? Ramirus?"

Slowly, Remus turned to her and saw she had a picture of Ramirus sleeping in his bassinet at home.

Home….

Remus nodded, taking his hand away from his mouth at last.

"He's wonderful," said Lily, smiling. "You're really good at this. I mean _really _good."

Remus sniffed in place of a "Thank you". His tears continued to flow unimpeded down the sides of his face. Then, with horror, he watched her set down the picture of Ramirus and uncover a drawing of herself sitting in the common room. The empty space was where her friends had been sitting with her, but he'd only had eyes for her…so he'd only drawn her sitting in the chair.

She looked up at him, her brow knitted. "Are there…_more_…of me?"

Remus nodded and bowed his head. He watched his tears falling from his face splash onto his lap. To his surprise, he felt Lily touching him again, scooting over right next to him and taking him by this shoulder. But this time Remus hadn't the strength to resist her. He let out a sob and collapsed into her arms. More sobs poured out of him as she tucked his head under her chin and wrapped her arms around him, holding him tight, while he drank in her wonderful scent of lilac and vanilla….

Even after he'd calmed down, they remained like that, with Lily holding Remus in her arms, for a very long time…until the sun set and the skies outside turned black.


	15. The Choice

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Choice**

Remus had been nervous at the funeral. He'd had to give the eulogy, and it'd been hard because he'd never been much of a public speaker. He was grateful to have his friends there with him.

It was not his first funeral. His first funeral had been for Sirius' Aunt Arista. That had been Sirius' first funeral too, as well as Peter's, but not James' or Lily's. Lily had already been to the funerals for all four of her grandparents before she had ever heard of Hogwarts. As for James, his first funeral was for his Uncle Everard, his father's older brother, who had been murdered by someone showing their support for Voldemort.

Now Remus stood alone at his parents' grave, which was in the yard beside the Lupins' woodland house. It was summer now. Today Remus had sealed the deal on selling his watch shop to an aspiring entrepreneur who planned to open up her own magical menagerie with her newly obtained premises. Shortly after that, Remus had deposited the money in his new Gringotts account, which he'd acquired the day the Gringotts goblins transferred his father's money into his possession. Then he had gone to see Ramirus at the orphanage. He had even helped one of the medi-witches bottle-feed him. Tomorrow he would be going to James' house and staying there for a week. At first he'd only planned for a weekend visit, but Mrs. Potter had insisted he stay for at least a week, and so ultimately he had consented to stay just that long.

The sun was setting, and Remus knew he really needed to get inside and pack. But for the moment, he was rooted to the spot before his parents' headstone. Below the dates of their births and deaths was inscribed the words:

_To know even one life breathed easier because he and she lived is to know he and she truly succeeded while here_

Those words summed up all of the love Remus had known in his life. His mother had loved his father despite the fact that he was a wizard. He had loved her despite the fact that she was a Muggle. They had loved Remus despite the fact that he'd been turned into a werewolf. His friends had stayed his friends despite that fact too.

He had little faith that anyone else—save for Ramirus, perhaps—would ever love him that way. Ever.

Heaving a sigh, he took out his wand, and conjured a laurel of roses. They floated into his hands, and he laid them down gently before the grave. "I love you," he whispered, sniffing. Wiping at his eyes, he finally turned and went back into the house to pack his bag.

Remus received a surprise when the front door of the Potters' magnificent country home further south opened after he'd knocked. It wasn't Mr. or Mrs. Potter who opened the door, nor was it James. It was, in fact—

"_Padfoot_?" Remus said incredulously, taking in Sirius' attire.

Sirius leaned against the doorjamb with his arms folded, clad in studded, black, dragon skin robes. He had an impish grin set on his handsome face. "Prongs and I were beginning to wonder, mate."

"Prongs told me you wouldn't be over until later this afternoon," said Remus, stepping over the threshold.

"Well, I kind of just decided to leave first thing this morning," Sirius admitted. "See—" He lowered his voice "—I've officially moved out of my house. Just took off. Just like that. With my bleedin' mother shouting curses after me."

"What do you mean, 'moved out'?"

"I mean the kind where you _never _go back." Sirius smiled hugely at the idea as he spoke. "'Course, financially I did have a little help from my Uncle Alphard, so I don't exactly live here for free, but it's only to help with the cost of food and such. Besides: the Potters have always loved having me over for Sunday lunch whenever I've had a really bad row with my _family_."

Remus stared at him a moment, and then smiled. "I'm happy for you, mate," he said, punching Sirius on the arm.

"Cheers, Moony," said Sirius brightly. "Right then. Can I take your bag for you? Your cloak?"

"Er thanks…" Remus said uncertainly, handing Sirius his bag.

Sirius took it and set it down by the stairs. Then he spun Remus around and pulled off Remus' traveling cloak. He hung this up on a hook, then he quickly ran the bag upstairs to James' room and then jogged back down. "How've you been?" he asked Remus more seriously, slightly breathless from exertion.

Remus smiled weakly. "I've been better." He felt something warm, soft, and vibrating rubbing against his legs, and looked down to see James' black Turkish angora cat, Abra, purring and blinking up at him with her amber eyes.

Sirius was staring at Remus fondly, and then, clapping him jovially on the shoulder, said, "Well, then! I know_just _the thing to perk you up! Come on!" He motioned for Remus to follow him out to the backyard.

It was warm and sunny outside. Remus blinked the sun out of his eyes as they readjusted to the intense light, and saw a pile of odd pieces of metal and rubber in the middle of James' backyard.

James was standing near it. He waved to Remus, grinning. "Moony! You're here! Finally!"

"Hello, Prongs," said Remus.

James put his hand on Remus' shoulder. "You been doing all right?"

This time Remus couldn't help but smile genuinely. "I'm taking it one day at a time."

"Right, now take _this _one day at time," said Sirius.

Remus and James turned and saw Sirius holding out a small, white, rolled up piece of paper to Remus.

"Padfoot put that away!" James laughed.

Remus laughed too. "When did _you _start smoking cigarettes?"

(It should be noted here that wizarding cigarettes are different from Muggle ones. Despite the fact that the word "cigarette" derives from a word for "tobacco", wizarding cigarettes are not filled with tobacco: instead, they are filled with wormwood. Now, back to our story.)

"Couple of weeks ago, actually," Sirius admitted. "Come on, try one. It'll give you a nice kick."

"I think I'll pass," said Remus.

Sirius shrugged. "Suit yourself." He held the cigarette between his first and middle fingers. Then he pulled out some Muggle matches (his seventeenth birthday wasn't until August thirty-first, so he still couldn't use magic outside of school).

"Allow me, Padfoot," Remus said, unable to help himself.

Sirius held the cigarette steady, wearing a curious expression.

Remus waggled the fingers of his right hand over the cigarette's tip and thought the words: _Leviter incendio_! Sparks flew from his fingers and lit up the end of the rolled up paper that contained wormwood, and _not _tobacco.

"Cheers, Moony," said Sirius, toasting to Remus with his lit cigarette. He stuck it in his mouth and took a sip on it. Then he took it out of his mouth and held it between his fingers as he exhaled, the smoke streaming out of his nostrils. He coughed roughly and hocked a loogie at the ground with a gasp.

"Well, that's one way to die," said James nonchalantly.

From the backyard they heard a knock at the front door.

"That'll be Wormtail," said James. "I'll get it, Pad, don't worry about it. You just get yourself breathing right again."

Sirius grumbled something indistinct as he straightened up again and tapped the ash off the end of his cigarette. Meanwhile he stuck his free hand in the pocket of his black jeans.

"So what's that?" Remus asked, waving his hand at the pile of odd looking pieces of metal and rubber on the ground nearby. "It smells burnt." In fact, it was making his eyes water slightly.

"It's an old Muggle motorbike," said Sirius.

"Think I remember my mum talking about those. What're you doing with it though?"

"Eh. I thought it looked cool, so I took it with me. I found it on my way here, and I thought it'd be neat to tinker with it some. Wouldn't it be cool if I could…er…make it fly?" There was a mischievous gleam in Sirius' gray eyes.

Remus rolled his and said, "You know that's against the law. You'd get in trouble with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry."

"Ministry Shministry," said Sirius, waving his smoldering cigarette around, still pinching it between his fingers. "Those idiots don't know what the hell they're doing."

"Who doesn't?"

Remus and Sirius turned to see Peter and James striding across the yard towards them.

"The idiots working at the bloody Ministry," said Sirius, taking another drag on his cigarette.

"Padfoot! When did _you_ start _smoking_?" Peter looked appalled.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Oh, Wormy, not you _too_. I started a couple of weeks ago, if you must know."

"Well, you ought to quit now before it takes over your life," said Peter sagely. "It's a horrid habit to pick up."

"I've been under a lot of stress lately, what with running off from home—"

"You've run off from home?"

"Yes. Yes I have. And I'm damn proud of it too."

"Good. So am I."

"Glad to hear it, Wormtail."

"And what's all this rubbish?"

"It's a Muggle motorbike. That's something Muggles ride around on. I guess they're like brooms that can't fly…and are a hell of a lot heavier. Anyway, I found it on my way over here, and I thought I'd tinker with it a bit."

"Padfoot aims to make it capable of flight," said James.

"Oh, I just thought it'd be a neat idea," said Sirius modestly. He finished his cigarette, tossed the stub into the grass, and ground it into the dirt with the toe of his black dragon skin boot.

There was another knock at the door.

"I'll get it!" said Peter. He swiveled on the spot and sprinted back into the house.

"So, where are your parents?" Remus asked James.

"Dad's at work," said James, "and Mum's out shopping. Got an extra mouth to feed now, don't she?" He cast Sirius a significant glance.

Sirius cast another one back. "She's got to feed Moony's and Wormtail's mouths too."

"I suppose you're right. I mean Wormtail's only here for the weekend, and Moony's here for a week—"

"Don't forget, we're staying at Moony's _next _week!"

"Oh yeah…."

"Hey guys! Look who it is!"

Remus, Sirius, and James all turned, and to their surprise, following Peter over to them, they saw—

"Lily?"

"Hello, James," said Lily rather pleasantly, her hands clasped behind her back, her red hair radiant in the late morning sunshine, dressed in a short skirt and a long jacket. Then she inclined her head to Remus and Sirius. "Sirius. Remus." Her eyes lingered on Remus an extra second longer.

Remus gulped.

Lily caught sight of the broken up motorbike. "Is that—_Was _that a motorbike?" She was grinning widely.

Remus, Sirius, James, and Peter all exchanged glances.

Then Sirius said, "Yes it is. I'm planning on tinkering with it some. Might make it _fly _even."

"That's illegal stuff you're doing," said Lily, but she was still smiling. "Where on earth did you get it?"

"Could we discuss this over some cold pumpkin juice in the kitchen?" James suggested, starting to walk backwards towards the house. "I dunno about the rest of you, but the heat's starting to get to me."

Remus did not fail to notice the brief exchange of bashful looks between James and Lily.

An hour later, Remus, Sirius, James, Lily, and Peter were sitting around the kitchen table in James' house. They had started out discussing frivolous, teenage matters, but gradually had moved into more worldly topics concerning current events beyond Hogwarts, i.e. the continuing war against Voldemort and his followers.

Addressing Sirius in a serious tone, James said, "Sirius, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I'm starting to have second thoughts about going into the Auror business after we graduate."

Sirius, who was lounging in the chair next to him with his hands folded behind his head, raised his eyebrows. "Really? I've been having second thoughts myself."

Abra meowed and jumped up onto James' lap.

"Fancy that," James said, smiling slightly as he began idly scratching the purring Abra's ears. "And...what have _your _second thoughts been?"

"I want to hear _yours _first."

Abra leapt off of James' lap and onto the table.

"Abra!" James scolded. "No! Get off the table! You're not allowed up here!"

But as was the nature of the cat, Abra wasn't listening to her owner. She crossed the round kitchen table to Remus and plopped down into his lap, nuzzling his chin.

Remus laughed as her whiskers tickled him. Fondly he scratched her ears and gently stroked the length of her back.

Abra's tail twitched with pleasure, and her purring grew louder and faster.

"Abra, now look what you've done," James grumbled, rising from the table. "You've gotten hair all over…." He pulled out his wand (his own seventeenth birthday had been on the twenty-seventh of March) and he siphoned up the black hairs that Abra had trailed behind her during her crossing. "Sorry about that. She's been shedding like mad," he said, sticking his wand back in his belt and sitting back down. "Right, so: you want to hear _my _second thoughts first, Sirius? Is that right?"

During this entire sequence, Remus had observed out of the corner of his eye that Lily had been staring at James fixedly, and James hadn't even noticed, despite the fact that she was sitting right beside him. For the moment, James' attention was locked on Sirius, who sat on his other side.

Leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table and pressing his fingertips together, James announced: "I've been thinking a lot about…joining the Order of the Phoenix instead."

A heavy silence fell upon the five of them, and only the low rumble of Abra's purring could be heard.

James cleared his throat and added: "I was thinking we'd do that, and then, if…we…er…survive…we can always move on into the careers we _want _to afterward—"

"James, I think you can join the Order and still uphold a career," Peter cut in.

James looked over at him, his eyebrows raised. "Really?"

"Of course," Peter went on. "The Order doesn't pay a salary, so an income's got to _come in _from somewhere. And the Auror business is a place they'd really look into, I think. You know, for recruiting members."

"What's the Order of the Phoenix?" Lily asked, glancing quizzically around at the young men.

"You haven't _heard _of it?" Peter's eyes went as wide as galleons.

"Of course she hasn't, Peter, she's Muggle-born," said Sirius. "And the Order doesn't like to be out in the open. Very 'hush-hush' operation, you know."

"Operation?" The crease in Lily's brow deepened.

"It's a secret society that Dumbledore himself's founded," James explained to her. "That's what the Order is. It's a secret society formed by Dumbledore himself to fight the forces of You-Know-Who—I mean—I mean V-Voldemort."

Peter clapped his hands over his ears. "James, are you bleeding mad? Don't say his _name_!"

"_Remus _says his name!"

"I'm _aware _of that."

"It's only a name, Peter," Remus said quietly.

For a twinkling of solemn, absolute silence, everyone stared at Remus.

Remus continued to scratch Abra's ears as if he hadn't said anything at all.

Then James said, "Remus is right. It's only a name. If _he _can say it, why can't the rest of us? Hell, it's _because _of _Voldemort_—" Here Peter flinched again—"that I lost my favorite uncle, Everard. He was like a second father to me, you know."

"I second that motion," said Sirius, sitting up and banging his fist enthusiastically on the table.

This loud noise sent Abra flying off of Remus' lap and streaking across the kitchen floor and out into the sitting room.

"From now on, we address the wicked and vile You-Know-Who as V-_Voldemort _and no other!" Sirius continued, his ability to stay serious rapidly waning. "Now, next item on the agenda—"

"We have an agenda?" Peter asked, recovering from another flinching at the sound of Voldemort's name.

"We do now, Wormtail," said James, grinning as his own ability to stay serious waned a tad.

"_Wormtail_?" Lily inquired, looking from James to Peter.

"I'll explain later," said James casually, flashing her a suave smile that Remus saw Lily respond to with a blush.

"So, as I was _saying_," said Sirius, clearing his throat, "next item on the agenda: since we're all so keen on joining the Order, why don't we just ditch our seventh year and join it _now_?"

"We can't _ditch school_, Padfoot!" Peter whined. He looked pleadingly around at Remus. "Right, Moony?"

Remus shrugged. "I dunno, Wormy. At this point, I'm more interested in finding out who murdered my parents, and fighting Voldemort and his followers, than sticking around in school for another year."

"Moony, this is a _first_!" James said incredulously.

"Unfortunately," Remus added with a slight and bereft smile, "only _over_age wizards and witches are allowed to be inducted."

"Damn!" said Sirius, pounding his fist on the table again. He began biting his nails, visibly itching for another smoke. James however would not be so accommodating as to allow Sirius to smoke _inside _the house. Partly only because Mrs. Potter wouldn't hear of it.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief and slouched in his chair.

"If the Order is so 'hush-hush', as you say," said Lily, eyeing all four young men again, "then how did you all come to know about it?"

"Parents," said Sirius simply. "Well, Moony, Prongs, and Wormtail's parents probably put it in a _good _light, but as for _mine_...well, you can guess. To put it lightly my _family _enjoyed putting the Order on a platter of ridicule and slicing it with knives of derision and slander. But now that I've moved away from all of that, I'm free to speak my mind with you lot. Now, what to do about _joining _the Order, since obviously we can't join it until we leave school anyway, as Moony pointed out to us—"

"Then I move that we do precisely that," said James. "We join the Order of the Phoenix straight after we graduate. In fact, I move that we postpone our careers as well, because if Wormtail, Padfoot, and I are all in Auror training, I don't think we can get into the Order, because that's considered school."

"But we'd be overage," Sirius argued.

"And how are we going to provide ourselves with income if we don't have jobs?" Peter asked.

"Well, it doesn't matter much to me," said Remus with slight bitterness. "Werewolves aren't allowed to get too many jobs, and the Ministry wouldn't even _hear _of even _considering hiring _one."

"I say we should put the Order first here," said Lily. "I think that as long as we're members, they wouldn't leave us out in the cold while we worry about how to establish a reliable source of income."

"See, Moony? We'll take care of you," said Sirius demonstratively, giving him a wink.

Remus was so grateful he could only smile. Clearing his throat rather sheepishly, he said, "I think you should look more into the Order's policy on whether they'll let you lot be members and still undergo Auror training," and then he added with a glance at Lily, "and education in fields of research in the Department of Mysteries."

Lily smiled affirmatively back. "I think you should still do as well as you've always done in school while you finish taking your N.E.W.T. classes for qualification, Remus," she told him. "And I think you and I should still go and apply for internships there. There can't be any change without trying, you know."

Remus swallowed, his smile shaky and nervous, his heart pounding with frenzy as her green eyes bore into his. "I know," he said softly. And then he noticed that there was a difference in her eyes. No longer could he see a faint glow of titillation behind them…. Had her love for him become extinguished forever…?

Well…it was for the best, if it had.

He tore his eyes away from hers, and determinedly avoided them thereafter.

"All those in favor of joining the Order of the Phoenix immediately after graduation from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, say 'Aye'," said James imperiously.

"Aye!" said Sirius, slamming his hand down in the center of the table.

"Aye!" said James enthusiastically, laying his hand down on top of Sirius'.

"Aye!" said Lily with equal enthusiasm, laying her hand on James'.

"Aye," said Remus, softly, but with feeling, as he laid his hand on Lily's, trying to ignore the sparks of pleasure that erupted when his skin made contact with hers.

"A-Aye," said Peter with slight hesitation, laying his hand timidly on Remus'.

The five friends looked around at each other, and for a change, Remus became so caught up in this exhilarating sensation of being a part of something, of brotherly affection beyond anything he'd ever thought he might have known, that he didn't notice, nor did he care, that James and Lily were constantly glancing at each other, their eyes bedazzled with growing mutual attraction.

* * *

Surprisingly, Ted awoke early that morning. It was Tuesday morning, if he recalled correctly. The rest of the boys in the dormitory were asleep, so Ted thought he'd take a break from his father's journals and catch up on his studying. That might improve Rodger's mood, and, more importantly, it's what his parents would want him to do: not dwell constantly in the past, but take time to focus in the present, on his own life.

Still, it was quite amazing how his encounter with the two werewolves had occurred only the night before last, and right now he felt as if several days—perhaps weeks—had gone by since that incident. He almost felt as if maybe he was leading a double life: his own, and then his father's, through his father's journals.

He shook his head, chasing the thought from his mind. He turned to his pile of schoolbooks and took them out and began going over the chapters that he knew he would be tested on during his final exams. As he was going over his defense against the dark arts text, he read over the part about werewolves and Wolfsbane potion. As he was reading about the internal and external effects that it had on the werewolf's lupine state, he realized something.

That black werewolf…the one that had been trying to save him….

Ted tossed the book aside and threw the covers off of himself. He went over to Rodger's bed next to his and shook Rodger awake. "Rodger! Wake up!"

Rodger rolled over and blinked blearily at Ted. "What?"

"I've figured something out," said Ted, barely able to contain his excitement. "That black werewolf—the one that saved me—us—whoever it was, they were using Wolfsbane potion!"

Rodger sat, growing slightly more alert. "How do you know that?"

"I was reading about the external and internal effects of the potion on a werewolf when they take it. And it fits the behavior and outer description of the werewolf that saved me! For instance, I could read the human lying not-quite-so-dormant-as-it-normally-would-have-been in the werewolf's eyes! And it was more in control of its movements, it communicated with me—snapped at me with its jaws to run for it—it was slightly smaller than a werewolf _not _on Wolfsbane normally is—like the one that wanted to rip me to pieces for instance—and there was less coarseness to its fur than there normally is with a werewolf."

"But Wolfsbane is hard to come by," said Rodger, scratching his head of blond hair now frumpy from being mashed into a pillow all night. "It's not exactly over-the-apothecary-counter, if you know what I mean."

"You're right," said Ted, leaning back against the bedpost at the end of Rodger's bed. He propped one leg up on the mattress, brought the knee of it up to his chin, and wrapped his arms around it, thinking. "He or she must have wanted it for a good reason. I mean you can make it too, but it's a wicked complicated potion to make. Not exactly simple."

"They must've wanted it pretty ba-a-ad," said Rodger, stretching and yawning. When he finished yawning he added, "And the only reason werewolves could be desperate enough to try and get their hands on something like Wolfsbane was if they absolutely had to stay in control for their next transformation."

"Do you think whoever the werewolf is planned it out then…?"

"Maybe…. But then…?"

For a moment, Ted and Rodger looked at each other. Ted could see that his best friend's mind was racing just as fast as his now.

"If whoever this werewolf was had planned it out," Ted said slowly, "then they must have known that the werewolf that was trying to rip me to pieces…actually _wanted _to rip me to pieces…."

Rodger's smoky blue eyes widened. He gulped and said seriously: "Ted…I think…someone might be…trying to…_kill _you."

Ted nodded, turning to stare at the window growing pale with the gray glow of early dawn. "Someone who's a werewolf, that is," he said mildly.

"Oh my God, Ted! How can you _possibly _be so _calm _about this?"

Ted glanced at the hysterical Rodger over his shoulder, trying to find the words to explain why he wasn't scared shitless that someone—a _werewolf _no less—wanted him dead. He recalled speaking to his godfather, Harry, about what it had been like for him to find out that Lord Voldemort had tried to kill _him _when he'd just been a baby, had tried throughout the rest of his existence to kill him. And Harry had told him that while at first it had been a shock to find out that someone had tried to kill him as a baby, ultimately he never found the knowledge "frightening". Yes, the thought had definitely hung over him, but he didn't scream with terror every moment when he carried the knowledge. He'd only screamed and grew afraid when he actually faced Voldemort himself, from when he'd faced him at the age of eleven, to when he faced his sixteen-year old memory/horcrux and his pet basilisk at the age of twelve, to when he'd witnessed him return to power in the graveyard near the village of Little Hangleton at the age of fourteen, to when Voldemort visited him in his nightmares and through their shared thoughts unknowingly at first, to when Harry had faced him again in the atrium of the Ministry of Magic. After that however, he said, when he'd gone to face him alone in the forest at the Second Battle of Hogwarts, to later that very morning, when he'd defeated him once and for all in the Hogwarts Great Hall, there hadn't been a shred of fear left inside of him. Ted remembered being in awe of his godfather when he'd told him that—despite the fact that while telling Ted about facing Voldemort alone in the forest, it had appeared as though Harry had been leaving out a huge detail to the story that he was unwilling to share with his godson. Something about between entering the forest and actually coming face to face with Voldemort himself…Ted was sure Harry had done more than just walking….

But it didn't matter now. What mattered was that Ted now drew from Harry's wisdom. He was in no danger at the present, so why should he go screaming like a banshee? So he said this to Rodger, and Rodger gave him a funny look he might have given Ted if Ted had blast-ended skrewts crawling out of his ears.

Rodger had opted to roll over and go back to sleep, since they didn't have to get up for class for another hour. Ted, on the other hand, could _not _go back to sleep. His brain was buzzing with too many thoughts and ideas and musings and wonderings. So, he decided to go downstairs and try to continue studying. Tucking his books under his arm, he slipped out of the sixth-year boys' dormitory and padded down the stone steps in his pajamas, bathrobe, and slippers to the common room. There, at the table nearest the fire, he saw the sleeping form of someone the mere sight of whom—the mere thought of whom—made him smile.

Victoire.

Asleep.

Over her homework.

Poor thing.

Quietly he went over and sat down in the chair beside her. He set his books on the table and rested his chin on them, intently watching her sleep, his smile growing wider with her every slow, even breath, every rise and fall of her gentle, curved back. She too was in a bathrobe and slippers, though he noticed underneath, unlike him, she was wearing a long, silk, periwinkle blue nightgown that reached down to her ankles, instead of pajamas.

She lifted up her head and opened her eyes, looking around confusedly, her long Weasley red hair falling into her face. She blinked at him confusedly when she noticed him there, and then she smiled bemusedly. "Were you…watching me sleep?"

Ted's face grew hot and he glanced away, at the crackling, dying fire in the fireplace instead. "Er…a little bit. I er…didn't want to wake you." He didn't look at her again until she spoke.

"So," she said, sitting up straight and brushing her hair out of her eyes, "Cecilia Bell told me about your and Rodger's little adventure the other night." She cupped her chin in her hand and rested her elbow on the table. Her eyes held a grim a disappointment that Ted found quite ominous—and not to mention a dramatic change from her demeanor a second before, when she'd been all happy to see him. "Why didn't you tell _me _about it?" she demanded. "How come I had to hear about it from your _best mate's girlfriend_?"

Ted sat up quickly, his palms turning sweaty. Nervously he shifted his stack of books around and cleared his throat. "Erm…I erm…didn't want to er…worry you."

"Oh _please_, do you honestly expect me to believe that?"

Ted dared to look her, and saw with horror that she was glaring at him. "Yes," he said, his mouth dry. "Yes, I do."

Victoire's brown eyes narrowed. "Well, it's a really lame excuse. Yes, I would have been worried, but you needn't _spare _me the _pain _of it. You do realize I'm not all peaches and cream. I _can_ handle tough stuff. I'm the daughter of a Gringotts curse-breaker who worked for the Order of the Phoenix, and a former Triwizard Champion who's one-quarter veela, you _know_."

Despite her fury, Ted was finding that it invigorated him to see her this way, and his affection for her only grew. "I'm sorry," he said dazedly.

Victoire continued to glare at him, and then opened up one of her schoolbooks with perhaps more force than was necessary. "Anything else you want to discuss with me?"

Ted snapped out of his daze. He bit his lip, wondering if he should tell her about how someone—a werewolf most likely—had him marked for dead. Well, _he _wasn't getting all worked up about it—if Victoire was as tough as she said she was, she could handle that. So he told her everything he'd told Rodger. When he finished she'd raised her eyebrows so high that they'd disappeared into her red hair.

"Really now? Is that so?" she said. "A werewolf? Out to kill _you_?"

Ted nodded, his heart pounding. He just wanted to see her smile at him again. He didn't know how he'd be able to stand it if she kept up with this grumpy, brooding attitude over the fact that he hadn't wanted to worry her by telling her how he'd nearly been slaughtered the night before last.

"You sure it isn't just _me_ out to kill you?" Victoire's eyebrows went—if possible—even higher.

Ted swallowed.

And then a smile crept onto Victoire's beautiful face, and Ted sighed with relief. "Only joking!" she laughed.

Ted laughed along with her, but very nervously. "Heh-heh. Yeah. So…er…are we…erm…? Do you…you know…forgive me…and all that…?" He glanced at her hopefully.

Victoire grinned at him puckishly. "I suppose," she replied softly, sliding her hand over his on the table.

The skin cells of that hand sang a heavenly chorus of euphoria at her touch, and a shiver ran down Ted's spine. He took a hold of her fingers with that hand and gently squeezed them. And she gently squeezed back as they gazed into each other's eyes.

Then hers turned serious. "No more secrets though, okay?"

Ted beamed at her with a sigh. "Alright. Fair enough. No more secrets."

"And one _more _thing."

"What's that, luv?"

For the first time—but then perhaps it was trick of the dim light of the dying fire in the fireplace—but Ted could swear that he saw her face turn bent with anxiety.

"If there is someone who wants you dead, promise me you'll—God I feel silly saying this but—promise me you won't go—you know—don't do anything stupid. Okay? Just promise me that."

Ted felt his own heart melting at her words. Softly he replied, "I—I promise."


	16. Tapestry, First Sight, and Posterity

**Chapter Sixteen**

**A Trip to the Tapestry, at First Sight, and a Picture for Posterity**

As on the previous day, Rodger would not let Ted go anywhere near the Answers box to crack open his father's journals until _after _he'd gotten done with everything else that needed to be done. However, when Ted was finished, he told Rodger of one other thing he ought to do before he goes skipping off to do more Remus Lupin journal reading.

After putting away his books, he went over to Victoire, who was sitting with her siblings by the common room fire. He noticed that Dominique had a book and Louis was playing a game of wizard's chess with a friend of his, another second-year boy whom Ted did not know. With a look of relish mostly directed at Dominique, who peered over her book at him as he approached, he swooped gracefully down on Victoire's cheek and gave it a swift kiss that took Victoire completely by surprise, but not unpleasantly. On the contrary, it made her laugh with the unexpected bit of pleasure from the contact of his lips on her skin, and Ted felt her shiver even more pleasurably so when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind and whispered in her ear, "Fancy a walk, luv?"

"Where are we going to _walk_, Ted?" Victoire tittered. "Not outside, I hope."

Ted closed his eyes and breathed in her ear so that her sisters wouldn't hear: "No. I know a place." He was thinking of the tapestry about which he'd read in his father's journal, behind which Harry's godfather Sirius Black had once made out with Helena Yeats.

"Oh," Victoire said silkily, reaching up and touching his cheek.

Now it was Ted's turn to shiver with pleasure, not that he wasn't shivering with it already, but as Victoire laid her hand on the side of his face and patted it playfully, he was shivering more than he ever thought he could have shivered in his whole life. And the amazing thing was that this kind of shivering wasn't noticeable to the naked eye. It was subtle and hidden. It was the kind of shivering where excitement made the hairs bristle and the viscera squirm and the heart race. Straightening up and allowing Victoire to stand, he nodded to her sister and brother. "Dominique. Louis. Nice move by the way," he added to Louis's friend, who had just made a really good move with his castle on the chess board.

"Thanks!" said the young boy brightly before turning back to the game. "Who's he?" he asked Louis.

"That's Teddy," Louis told him. "He's my sister's new _boyfriend_. He's cool." He grinned up at Ted. "En't you, Teddy?"

Ted rolled his eyes at being addressed as what he considered his "kiddy" name. He noticed that Dominique was glaring at him, but as soon as Ted looked at her, she immersed herself once more in her book.

"Don't mind her," said Victoire, taking Ted's arm. When they were out of her siblings' earshot, she added, "Being my annoying little sister, as usual."

"I understand," said Ted as they climbed through the portrait hole together. Ted stumbled somewhat as they came out into the corridor, but Victoire caught his arm before he fell to the ground. Sheepishly he muttered his thanks.

"No problem," said Victoire, smiling as the two of them began walking hand in hand from Gryffindor tower.

Ted managed to bring them both to the right tapestry—it was a good thing it was a direct path to Gryffindor tower, because that made it easier to locate without the Marauder's Map coming _from _Gryffindor tower.

"_This _is the place?" Victoire asked.

"Yeah," said Ted, going over to the tapestry that would shield them. "See, this tapestry hides us from the main school. Otherwise this corridor's generally empty unless you're taking a shortcut to Gryffindor tower. Mind, that's only if you _know _about this shortcut. Otherwise it's a great place for young lovers to…er…have a _tryst_, as they say."

Victoire smiled. Clearly she was impressed. "How do you know all this?"

"I _know _things, luv," Ted said, lowering his voice to a more seductive tone, drawing closer to her. "Shall I tell you of the secrets of this castle uncovered by my father and his friends?"

"Only if you let me make you tell me again in French once I've taught you how to say it." Victoire was also drawing near, and slowly they were both drawing nearer and nearer to each other as they spoke.

"In that case, let's talk about _you_," said Ted, not wishing to go about their French lessons talking about his dad. He'd rather she just gave him more vocabulary words and notes on grammar and verb conjugation.

"Are we avoiding our French lessons then?" Victoire inquired sultrily.

"No. It's just, I know so little about you—"

"I wouldn't say that. When's my birthday?"

"Well, that's easy: you were born on the second anniversary of the defeat of Voldemort: May second. That's why your parents named you Victoire: you told me it's the French form of Victoria, which means 'victory'."

"Ha! You even know my namesake! And what's my middle name?"

"Fleur, for your mum, and Dominique's is Gabrielle, for your Aunt Gabrielle."

"See, you even know _my baby sister's _middle name. How dare you say you think you don't know me that well. What about color? What's my favorite color?"

"Teal, because it looks good on you—in fact it looks positively _sexy _on you—but when it comes to _me_, it's brown because brown's the natural color of my eyes. And er…blue is your second favorite, I believe: periwinkle blue, to be more specific."

"Favorite sweet?"

"Chocolate. That's both our favorite sweet."

"Favorite band?"

"Weird Sisters. Again, like me."

"Worst habit?"

"You twirl your hair when you're nervous. Or you chew the end of your quill if you happen to have one in your hand."

"Personality?"

"Very bubbly. Dreadfully nosy, _but _for good reason. You're quite outgoing, which is so not me, because I'm rather shy and quiet. _You _made the first move, after all. Flowers brighten your mood, especially roses, and _especially _red ones. You're not all peaches and cream: you're soft on the outside, tough on the inside, but not without some tenderness _there_ as well because when I look deep into your beautiful brown eyes I can see it…. And…you're also very…_ethereal_…."

"It's a veela thing."

"I presumed as much."

"Ambition?"

"You want to be a Gringotts curse-breaker like your dad."

"Favorite hobby?"

"At home you have a set of paints and an easel, and you've had them ever since you were little and you love to paint on them. Yet you don't like to sketch in the least. As a matter of interest, my father was into sketching."

"Interesting. And my _mother _is into painting. Like me. And what about _you_ Ted? Do you have any artistic pursuits?"

"I used to draw when I was little. Maybe I'll take it up again. My father took it up again in _his_ sixth year too. Sketching that is."

"What's the difference?"

"I dunno. I think sketching's more…_serious_…or something…."

They were nose-to-nose now, gazing deep into each other's brown orbs.

"My scent?"

"Well of course I know _that_…."

"Then what is it?"

"Lilac…and cacao…." Ted thought he was breathing a little more heavily than usual. He trembled as she slid her arms around his neck and pulled him against her. "Cacao…that's…er…chocolate…you know…."

"I _know_." Victoire came around to his neck and began planting little kisses along it.

Ted closed his eyes, losing himself in her, sliding his hands around her and placing them on the small of her back. Then he allowed one to snake upward into her long, fiery red hair…let his fingers run through it…how wonderful it felt….

"And you smell like...coffee…and…freshly baked bread…and—fancy that: I detect…a hint of…_cacao_…" Victoire muttered in between kisses.

"Mmm. I never knew that…." Ted buried his nose in her hair.

"You do _now_…." Now that she'd reached his lips, she planted a kiss there, which Ted hungrily deepened, a response to which she responded with acquiescence without hesitation. When they broke apart for air, she said breathlessly, "Now, we're going to say all of those things again—_en français_."

Ted smiled, also breathless. "If you insist, _ma chérie_."

On the first day of their seventh year at Hogwarts, James had the courage to ask Lily out again. And this time, she said yes.

Since their first date—which comprised of nothing more than James taking Lily for a ride around the grounds on his trusty old Nimbus 1000—they began spending more and more time together. Remus, Sirius, and Peter all expressed how happy they were for him. Even Remus did sincerely feel happy, but naturally a part of him was jealous. But he kept telling himself over and over: it was for the best.

When James was hanging with them, Lily was usually with them, so their "boy time" fun was virtually non-existent. At first it was fun for a little while: they showed her the Marauder's Map and told her about the significance of their nicknames—which of course meant revealing that they were illegal, underage, unregistered Animagi. Lily however was not the type to rat out someone, and agreed to keep it a secret. From experience, Remus knew that she could be trusted. However, it got to be where James and Lily would keep getting wrapped up in themselves and sort of forget that the other three were there—not that they could help it. It was just the way their hormones worked when they were so close to each other. But as a result, James and Lily ended up spending more time alone, just the two of them, and Remus, Sirius, and Peter saw a little less of James than they used to.

One cold afternoon in December, when the grounds and forest were covered by a thick blanket of white snow, Remus watched James and Lily from the window of the seventh-year boys' dormitory in Gryffindor tower as they were engaging themselves in a one-on-one snowball fight below. With each snowball they drew closer and closer, until James grabbed her around the middle from behind and picked her up. Though the sound was muffled, Remus could hear Lily scream with laughter as he spun her around and around, until James got so dizzy that he fell flat on his back in the snow, taking Lily with him, where she landed on top of him. Both of them laughed as they lay in the snow, and Remus found that a muscle was jumping in his jaw. As soon he noticed this he put a stop to it by relaxing himself, trying to ignore that same old shame he felt whenever his envy got the better of him.

"They out there, Moony?" asked Sirius' voice behind him.

Remus nearly yelled. He turned to look at Sirius who came over to join him at the window, having just finished shaving in the boys' shower room. Remus had actually started growing facial hair a little before him while James and Peter didn't seem to be growing any at all. Unlike Sirius however, who shaved it _all _off, Remus shaved everything except the mustache, which he rather liked, so long as he kept it thin and trimmed. The odd thing about it though was that his father nor his father's father nor any of his father's father's brothers nor his father's father's father nor any of his father's father's father's brothers had had ever had any facial hair, and it was concluded that it was his lycanthropy that gave him a non-hereditary case of it. In any case, in response to Sirius' question Remus replied somewhat shakily, "Y—Yeah. They're out there."

"Aw, wook at dem pwaying," Sirius said in a mock-baby voice.

"Padfoot, _please_," Remus said, though admittedly he was amused. Then he looked around confusedly and asked, "Where's Wormtail?"

"I have _no _idea," said Sirius. "So, do you think Prongs and his little doe Lily there'll 'do it' _before _they get married, or be goody-goodies and wait until _after_?"

Remus blinked. "Do you _ever _think about what you're going to say before you _say _it? Or is it just one of those things where it always sounds totally fine inside your own head?"

"It's sex, and _I _am of the masculine gender," said Sirius, shrugging. "Can I help that the thought tends to enter my head, and I find the idea of it so incredible that I just _have _to talk about it?"

"You've never even _done _it," Remus ragged. "None of us has ever had _sex_."

"Oh my gosh, Moony! You actually said the word '_sex_'!"

"Shut up, Padfoot."

"I have to admit though, I'm curious. Ever since _I _was given the Talk."

"Did your _parents _give it to you?" Remus asked.

"No, _Prongs' _parents gave it to me, when Prongs found out that _mine _hadn't had the decency. Although I think they were planning on making _Kreacher _do it." Sirius shuddered. "I assume _your _parents did though?"

Remus smiled nostalgically. "My father did."

Sirius looked at him concernedly. "How've you been doing, living all by yourself in that house?"

"It's growing on me. I talk to my parents sometimes. In spirit, of course, but you know…. While I'm going around the house I just…say what's on my mind, and feel like they're listening…wherever they are."

"You planning on visiting your brother again this weekend?"

Remus nodded. During the summer Remus had visited Ramirus at the orphanage nearly every day, and now that he was in school he went to see him every Saturday afternoon. "He's growing fast," he told Sirius. "My God…he was born in February, and it's December now…he's already almost a year old."

"Does he like you?"

"I don't think he's old enough to make any bones about it. But, well, he seems to prefer me to the medi-witches when he's upset and _I'm around_, if that means anything."

"Well, at least _your _brother isn't a git." Sirius went over to the edge of his bed and sat down on it.

Remus went over and sat down across from him on the edge of his own bed. "Oh Sirius. You and Regulus are more like brothers than Ramirus and I will ever be."

Sirius tilted his head. "How do you figure?"

"You're closer in age for one thing. _Much _closer. You're what, two years apart?"

"Yeah."

"Whereas Ramirus and I are about _seventeen _years apart. Or…sixteen years, ten months, and nine days apart, to be more precise. I think that's right. Anyway, I'm more like Ramirus' _uncle_ than his _brother_, just because I'm so much older. I doubt we'll ever have brotherly quarrels or—"

"That makes you the luckiest brother on the face of the planet, then. Honestly, Moony, I got the short end of the stick when it came to a family. You want to know part of what makes my family's pureblood mania so incredibly twisted?"

"The fact that it's pureblood mania in the first place?"

"Well that. But—" Sirius looked around the otherwise empty dorm and then leaned in towards Remus a little. Lowering his voice he said, "My parents are _cousins_."

Remus' mouth fell open. "They're _cousins_?"

Sirius nodded. "That's why _both _my grandparents' surnames were Black. I mean my parents aren't _first _cousins—I think they're second or third—but still…it's just _weird_…. But, that's what you have to do if you only want to marry other purebloods."

"That's just stupid."

"I agree. And you know what I like about _you_, Moony? Aside from your aptitude for marauding and your dry sense of humor?"

Remus smiled. "What?"

"You're everything Voldemort and his Death Eaters despise. Your dad was a wizard but your mum was a Muggle, and your great-great-great grandfather was _Muggle-born_. On top of all of that, you're a loathed half-breed werewolf. Not to mention you're friends with a Muggle-born, two blood traitors, and…. What's Wormtail, just out of curiosity?"

"I don't know. All I know is that he's a friend too." Remus paused, studying Sirius while Sirius smiled fondly at him. "Family reunions must have been lonely for you, Padfoot."

"Well, they weren't always so fun with my cousins Narcissa and Bellatrix—they're sisters, my dad's brother's daughters."

"They're Death Eaters now, aren't they?"

"Bellatrix is most definitely, but I dunno about Narcissa. I think her husband Lucius Malfoy might be, but if you ask me, Bellatrix's marriage is proof this whole pureblood thing isn't right. She married that Rudolphus Lestrange _just _because he was the first pureblood who asked her to marry him. I think he loves her, but I think she could care less about him, quite frankly, but she _acts _like she does. She's delusional in my opinion. Narcissa on the other hand…well, surprisingly, I think there's _some _love between her and Lucius. Let me put it this way: oddly enough, I heard about their private affairs because my mother couldn't keep her blooming mouth shut about a damn thing. She's always had to let the whole world know what's on her mind. Anyway, I remember her saying—" On purpose he started doing an impression of his mother in a "wicked witch" sort of voice—"'Lucius and Cissy have been trying real hard to have a baby and nothing doing but they're still trying even as we speak.'

"Case and point: _they _have been having sex. As for Rudolphus and Bellatrix, I remember Mum saying, 'Rudolphus, I don't _believe_—' And trust me, I couldn't believe _my _ears when I heard my prim and proper mother say this either '—I don't _believe _that Bella hasn't put out for you since your honeymoon! You'll just have to try harder! We need more pureblood babies! More I tell you! More!' Okay, I made up that last bit. That was acting. At any rate, I remember as a kid at family reunions Narcissa and Bellatrix always tried to ruin, or _did _ruin, the fun for me and Andromeda."

"Who's Andromeda?"

"Don't you remember? She's Bellatrix and Narcissa's sister, and my favorite cousin."

"Oh right! Now I remember! But I forget why she's your favorite cousin."

"Because she's just like me: a white sheep in the Black family!"

"Ha-ha, very clever. _White _sheep of the _Black _family."

"Yes, it is, isn't it? Anyway, she's like a sister to me more than a cousin. We're close. Thick as thieves, Andromeda and I."

"Do you keep in touch?"

"Somewhat. She's been busy since she got married."

"She's married _too_?"

"Yep. To a Muggle-born by the name of Ted Tonks. But I'll tell you one thing. I wouldn't leave it to Andromeda to name _my _children."

"Why not?"

"Well, er—Thankfully she and Ted only have one: a girl. I think she's about four now. Andromeda's sent me some pictures. Hang on—" Sirius got up, went to his trunk, knelt down, and opened it. After digging around in it a little, he said, "Ah. Here's one. It's fairly recent. Taken just this past Halloween." He handed it to Remus, and Remus saw a small girl with mousy brown hair done up in crazy pigtails who seemed to be relishing in—Remus blinked so much out of disbelief—transforming her actual face into several scary _monster _faces.

"What on _earth _is she doing?"

"Oh, I should've warned you," Sirius laughed. "She's a Metamorphmagus."

"She's a what?"

"Metamorphmagus. It means she can change any or all of her appearance at will. She was born with it. All Metamorphmagi are born, not made. They're really rare too. And it's only in really rare cases that the gift gets passed on from parent to child. It _can _happen, but only under special and very specific circumstances…."

Remus glanced down at the picture, and saw that after making her face look like a bird with dagger-like teeth, she turned her face to its normal heart-shaped state again. Now she was laughing in such a way that the sparks of a fiery inner-spirit could be seen in her eyes and her face, and Remus thought she looked rather cute. In fact, this time, when she started transforming her face again, he found it quite amusing. Handing Sirius back the picture, he asked, "But what's this got to do with why you wouldn't want Andromeda ever naming your children?"

"Well guess what Andromeda named her daughter there?" Sirius said, sticking the photograph back in his trunk and sitting back down on the edge of his bed.

Remus shrugged. "Something ridiculous, I suppose."

Sirius leaned forward like he did before and said in voice that was strained by his effort to contain an outburst of laughter: "_Nymphadora_." And then he reared back his head and let out a howling guffaw. "_Nymphadora_! That's her name! _Nymphadora_! Isn't that…just…the _worst_…name…you could…get…? Ha-ha-ha!"

"Nymphadora…" Remus said thoughtfully, trying the name out on his tongue. And then he smiled. "I don't see what's so ridiculous about it, Sirius. I think it's a rather lovely name."

Sirius wiped his eyes, his laughter subsiding. "You sound like 'Dromeda. I'm telling you, Moony, _Nymphadora _might like her name _now_, but you wait until she gets to school. She'll want to change it to something else soon enough."

Just then Peter kicked the dorm door open looking steamed up about something.

"Ah, Wormtail! There you are!" said Sirius. "What's—What's wrong?"

"Everything!" Peter moaned, collapsing against the wall and slumping down to the floor. "Cicely came up to me and told me she wants to see other people! She says I'm too clingy."

"That's some bad luck there, mate," said Sirius, nodding seriously. "'Sorry to hear things didn't work out between you two."

"And what's worse," Peter went on, "I've lost the Marauder's Map!"

"WHAT?"

Remus and Peter both jumped in their skins at Sirius' outburst.

"Peter!" Sirius wailed. "How in the name of Emeric the Evil did you lose the map?"

"I—I'm sorry, Sirius!" Peter whimpered. He looked to be near tears, now cowering as Sirius rose to his feet and positively towered before him. "I—I was using it—You remember how I said that Cicely thought I was too clingy?"

"_Yes_…."

"Well, she found me looking at it in the—in the library, and she found out that I was using it to spy on her. So—So—If you want to blame someone you should blame _her_! She's Head Girl, and when she saw I had something like that she—she ran off to tell the first teacher she could find. Considering that she was an authority figure and she was furious with me, I knew she was running off to get me in trouble. And I tried to run for it but I ran into her and Professor McGonagall…and now—and now Filch's got the map. In his office. There's no hope of getting it out…."

Sirius smacked his hands to his face and buried it in them, groaning as if the sky were falling. "Peter…how _could _you…?"

"How could he what?"

Remus and Peter looked up with Sirius looking up from his hands, to see James and Lily in the doorway of the dorm, holding hands, garbed in their winter cloaks, hats, scarves, and gloves, and flecked with snow.

"_Peter _lost the blooming map!" Sirius shouted, pointing at Peter accusatorily. "To _Filch_!"

"What?"

"I'm sorry, James," Peter moaned. Quickly he explained again how his break-up with his girlfriend had caused him to lose the Marauder's Map to Argus Filch.

To everyone's surprise, James was not at all enraged, unlike Sirius who was still fuming. Now the fact that James was not having the same reaction as he was made him fume even more.

"You're not _mad _at him? Think what he _did_, James!"

"Oh, Sirius, don't pretend you never used the map to spy on Helena Yeats, even after the two of you broke up," James countered.

Sirius did not talk to James for the remainder of the afternoon. However, by dinnertime, he was all brooded out and apologized to James for his sulky behavior that evening in the common room. In addition he apologized to Peter for shouting at him.

"It's just not fair we don't have the map anymore," Sirius said as he played Lily a game of wizard's chess.

"Don't worry about it," said Peter, who sat with James, both of them watching their game, and Remus, who had his nose—as usual—buried in a book. Every so often though he sneaked peeks at Lily with no one being the wiser.

"Yeah," he heard James say to Sirius beside him, agreeing with Peter. "Who knows…? Maybe some new _marauders _will manage to retrieve it someday and use it for all of _their_ marauding needs…."

"James is right, you know, Sirius," said Lily. And then she spotted a quandary in the position of Sirius' black king, because there was absolutely no way he could get him out of danger: anywhere he ran away to, he would be in check, like he was right now. With triumphant glee she cried, "Checkmate!" and her white queen smashed Sirius' black king over the head with her throne, reducing the black king to crumbles.

"Damn!" Sirius cursed as he collected the shards of his fallen king off of the board.

~

The Hogwarts class of 1978 would not get their N.E.W.T. results until a week after school had ended. In the meantime they were enjoying themselves on the sunny grounds, saying goodbye to everyone who had ever meant anything to them at all. Remus, James, Sirius, Lily, and Peter did not say goodbye to each other, because they were all heading to the same place, as were some other people they knew fairly well. There was however a moment of tension when Severus came out of nowhere and asked Lily if he could have a private word with her. Remus noticed that under his arm he was carrying one of his favorite books on the dark arts. By now it was no secret that Severus was obsessed with the dark arts, reading about them all of the time whenever he wasn't studying, and discussing with his Slytherin compadres things like Inferi and dementor's kisses and using Unforgivable Curses on people they wanted to use them on. Once Remus thought he'd heard Severus boast that the first chance he got he was going to give James a good dose of the Cruciatus Curse, and then finish him off with Avada Kedavra.

As it had been nearly two years since Lily and Severus had spoken, this was a highly awkward situation. The only one who didn't seem to feel at all awkward was Lily. In fact, when Severus asked her for that private word, Lily blinked at him as if he'd asked her if she'd please allow him to transfigure her into a slimy green slug.

"Who do you think you _are_?" she growled at him. She was so angry she could hardly get her words out. "Do you _honestly believe _that after—? That I would just—? That I _wouldn't mind_—? Get away from me! Just—Just go away—!"

"But Lily," Severus protested. "If we could—Just for a minute—"

"PLEASE, SEVERUS, JUST GO!"

"You heard her, _Snivellus_," James goaded.

"Don't _you _get involved, James!" Lily snapped.

"You just wait, Potter, you big-headed coward!" Severus hissed. "One day I'll have you in a corner, alone, without your stupid friends here to help you, and the last thing you'll see is a flash of green!"

"Is that a _threat_?"

James and Severus were now almost nose to nose, except that James, Sirius, and Remus were all a bit taller than Severus, so while Sirius and Remus stood on either side of James, Peter sort of hung back, being the shortest of them all.

Severus whipped out his wand and before anyone knew it, he had James hanging upside down in midair. Apparently where Severus was concerned, this jinx had yet to go out of style. Or maybe he just was using it as an appropriate start to some payback. Remus remembered when the jinx _had _been in style, back in their fifth year. While no one had dared to try it out on clever James Potter and his clever little gang of friends (Sirius, Remus, and Peter), there were times when Remus would be walking through the halls and people would leap out from around corners and send other people into the air, hanging by their ankle. That had been one of the more pressing problems for he and the other prefects to control. Being James and Sirius' friend however had its benefits in those times, because if any of the casters of the spell tried to argue, he'd remind them who he was.

"I'm Remus Lupin," he'd say, "you know: good friend of James Potter and Sirius Black."

Most people didn't need that last bit. As soon as they heard his name, they knew who he was: that he was with Potter and Black, and therefore not to be trifled with, for he was known to be just as clever.

And now, even after that spell had gone out of style, Remus found himself confronting another caster of it: Severus.

"Severus, you put him down, now!" he ordered. "Sirius, put that away!" he added to Sirius, who had been drawing out his own wand.

"Severus, please put him down!" Lily exclaimed.

"Put me down, _Snivellus_, you disgusting little maggot you!" James was shouting, his arms and one leg flailing in the air, searching his robes for his wand as a throng of other students nearby began gathering towards the commotion.

"Make me!" Severus yelled at Remus.

"_I _am a school prefect."

"Oh, yeah? Well where were _you _when Potter here did this same thing to _me_?"

Sirius meanwhile instead of putting his wand away like Remus had asked him to, had resorted to muttering a counterjinx instead, and the struggling James floated back down to earth. The crowd of people clapped but Remus, James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and Severus paid them no mind. As soon as his feet touched the ground, James finally got a hold of his wand inside his robes and pointed it between Severus' eyes.

But Remus grabbed his wrist and yanked it down. With his other hand he managed to grab Severus' wrist and yank his wand down too.

"All of you just cut this out right now," Remus said authoritatively. "I mean it. I may not have been made Head Boy because I never did my job when it came to _you _lot, but I'm _still _a prefect, and I am sorry but I have got to put a stop to this. Before something happens that we will _all _regret." He glared around at James, Sirius, and Severus as he spoke, and then slowly he let go of James and Severus' wrists.

James and Severus both stuck their wands back in their robes, glowering daggers at one another.

"Please, Severus, just go," Lily repeated, more quietly.

Severus looked at her, eyes wide with disbelief. Then he narrowed them and glared at her and the four young men before swiveling on his heel and stalking away, his black robes billowing after him in the summer breeze.

"Yeah, that's right, you go back to your Death Eater mates!" Sirius called after him.

"That's enough out of you!" Remus snapped. Then, addressing both Sirius and James, he said vituperatively, "When are you two going to _grow up_?" and stormed away before anyone could respond.

He sought seclusion beneath their usual lakeside beech tree, sitting down at the base of the trunk and leaning back against it, closing his eyes. Not long after he'd meditated for a few minutes on his present state of being, he heard his name being called by his friends. He chose not to answer them. They would find him eventually, and if they didn't, he would be highly surprised. He wasn't far. If they really wanted to find him, they wouldn't stop until they did.

Soon enough, the cries of "Moony!" and "Remus!" stopped, followed by James announcing: "There he his!" to the others. Remus opened his eyes and looked sideways at them when he heard the rustle of their footfalls in the grass grow louder. In the shade of the beech tree the four of them stood before him, James and Sirius looking remorseful somewhat, and Lily and Peter looking concerned.

"We're—We're sorry about that mate," said James quietly. "What else is there to say? I mean anything more would just be an excuse for Sirius' and my behavior."

Remus regarded them all. His fraternal affection for them won him over and so he couldn't help but smile fondly. "Don't worry about it," he said. "I won't be a prefect anymore anyway, now that we're done with school here."

"We should take a picture!" said Sirius enthusiastically. "For _posterity_, you know?" He held his hands up with his palms facing away from him, spreading them out as he did so, like an artist envisioning his concept. "The four Marauders on their very last day at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. What do you think? Anyone got a camera handy?"

"I've got one," said Lily, digging around in her shoulder bag.

"Is that the one _I _gave you for your birthday?" James asked.

"Of _course _it is," Lily laughed flirtatiously. "What other wizarding camera do I have? By the way, when I'm developing the film in the potion, does everyone want a copy of this so called, 'picture for _posterity_'?"

The four young men nodded, murmuring affirmatively.

"Very well then," said Lily, pulling out the wizarding camera and wondering if she should stick on the flash bulb. "It doesn't need the flash, does it? I mean it's bright and sunny out, and we're outside so if you all just stand in the sun…."

"Here, let me give you a hand with that," James offered, crossing over to her. "You have the tripod somewhere?"

"In my bag."

"But how—?"

"Undetectable Extension Charm," said Lily with a rather sly smile.

"Well…aren't _we _clever?" James teased.

Sirius cleared his throat loudly and said, "Shall _I _get the tripod then?"

"Oh, er…sorry, Pad," said James flusteredly. "I—I've got it." He went over to Lily's shoulder bag on the ground and pulled out the long tripod.

Nearly ten minutes later they finally had the camera set up for use. Now they just had to decide on what the background would be for their "picture for posterity". James and Sirius insisted that it consist of the castle and the Whomping Willow. Peter, who agreed with everything James and Sirius said, agreed with them on the spot about this too. Remus however was a little iffy about it, because the Whomping Willow naturally reminded him of things about himself he hated being constantly reminded of anyway.

"But that tree's part of where it all started," James said persuasively. "Would you rather we tried to put ourselves in front of the Shrieking Shack?"

"We couldn't because the Shrieking Shack's all the way in Hogsmeade village," Remus pointed out.

"You know what I _mean_. Listen, if it helps at all, think of all the good times we've had under that tree. And beyond of course, but regarding the _tree_…."

"Well…." Remus looked off at the tree and recalled everything from that very first time his friends came to him in Animagus form and gave him the first full moon since he was bitten that he could honestly describe as being "wonderful". He supposed it wasn't _that _awful of a reminder…if anything, it really did make for a nice background subject. "Alright. We'll have the Whomping Willow then."

"Excellent!" James and Sirius cheered together.

James clapped him on the back, and then pulled him into a one-armed hug.

Remus felt such a rush of gratitude that his face grew hot. Next thing he knew however, Sirius grabbed him from behind in a playful headlock, and gave Remus a noogie while half-jumping up onto his back. Remus yelled a yell that turned into a guffaw as he overbalanced and he and Sirius both crumbled to the ground. As they rolled off of each other and lay there in the grass, they let out roaring gales of laughter, and James and Peter joined them momentarily, while Lily simply stood there by her camera, shaking her head, but smiling.

"C'mon you lot!" she laughed. "Before the sun goes down at _least_! For Merlin's sake, you're acting like you're all plastered!"

"O-Okay!" Sirius gasped, still shaking with laughter as he and Remus pulled themselves onto their feet. He went over to where Peter stood with his arms folded next to James, and put his arm around either one's shoulders, with Peter on his right and James on his left. It was a tad awkward because Peter was about half the height of Remus, Sirius, and James, but Sirius managed it well enough.

"C'mon Moony!" James hollered, putting his right arm around Sirius.

"I'm coming!" laughed Remus.

James grabbed Remus and pulled him into the shot, putting his left arm around his shoulders.

Remus put his right arm around James, feeling like the luckiest wizard in the world, and smiling a smile that proved it as Lily finally took the picture.

"Say, 'fizzing whizbee'!" she called to them from behind the camera.

"Fizzing whizbee!" chorused the four young men.

There was a puff of smoke from the camera, and then Lily emerged from behind it, waving it away and coughing when she accidentally breathed some of it in. As Remus observed her reappearing, it was then that he second-guessed himself and thought…maybe…he _wasn't the _luckiest wizard in the world.

_The luckiest _werewolf_, then_, said a voice in his head.

Lily was smiling at him, but it was brief because now James was taking her in his arms, and then he spun her around, out of danger of knocking over the camera, of course.

_That'll have to do_, Remus decided grimly as James stopped spinning Lily around and kissed her hard on the mouth. _That'll just have to do. _

"Oh for crying out loud, get a room, you two!" Sirius teased.

James and Lily broke their kiss and glanced over at Sirius.

"He's right you know," said Lily, looking up at James.

"Oh, Padfoot, you ruin all the fun," James said in a pretend-whine.

"I'll show _you _ruin all the fun!" Sirius did the same thing he'd done with Remus earlier: he locked James in a headlock and gave him a noogie.

Lily rolled her eyes and turned her attention towards the lake, her arms folded.

Both James and Sirius laughed as James tried fighting Sirius off of his back, and Remus and Peter laughed as they watched.

"Oooh, come look at the water you guys!" Lily called, beckoning the young men over to where she stood upon the crest of the small hill where they were all gathered.

Remus and Peter got over to her first, and James and Sirius followed suit once they'd disengaged from their playful little wrestling match. What they saw took the breath away from all of them.

As the sun made its descent towards the western horizon, the solar rays bouncing off of the surface of the lake gave the illusion that there was a long carpet of diamonds shimmering across the water and gradually fading out into darkness as it drew closer to them.

"That's beautiful, that is, luv," said James, wrapping his arms around Lily from behind her and resting his chin on her shoulder.

Remus felt Sirius put an arm around his shoulders, and glanced fleetingly over to see that Sirius had put his other arm around Peter as the three of them stood with James and Lily, watching the sunset on the lake. As he turned his attention back to the "diamond carpet" on the water, he heard Sirius mutter something about three "third wheels".

For a very long time, no one spoke. No one said a word. They all just stood together on that shallow hillcrest, gazing at the beautiful diamond lights dancing on the surface of the lake, glad to have one last peaceful day with each other.


End file.
